The Start of a Beautiful Friendship
by Kitty O
Summary: Oneshots of Merlin's and Arthur's adventures... told from the POV of random person. Seasons 1-3. Episode scenes: 1.01 , 1.04 , 1.08, 1.12, 1.10, 2.03, 2.06, 2.07, 2.11, 3.01, 3.04, 3.10, 3.13. Spoilers for every episode listed. IS COMPLETE.
1. s1e1 The Dragon's Call

I knew I was in for it today. I didn't want to get up. The moment the sunlight filtered through my closed eyelids, forcing me awake, my heart began to fill with trepidation. No matter what, my day was going to be horrible. _He_ would see to that.

But, like the hapless but harmless servant that I am, I would have to smile and bear it. What good was it to complain? Would that make my day any less miserable? No.

But perhaps if I never got out of bed at all…

Just then, my sister, Blair, came singing into the room. "Time to arise, Tucker!" she cried happily. "_Tempus est surgere!_"

This was her favorite way to tell me it was time to get up and go, but I did not respond as I usually do jumping energetically out of bed.

"No," I moaned pathetically, rolling over in my cot.

Blair was surprised, but she laughed lightheartedly. "No, brother? No? Why? Is it more important to catch up on your sleep than it is to get money to eat with?"

"_Yes,_" I said firmly, blocking out the hostile light from the window with my hands. It didn't work, so I tried hiding beneath my threadbare blanket.

Instantly the smile lines disappeared from the corners of her eyes. "Tucker? Are you sick? What's wrong?"

Finally I faced her. "You didn't hear? Prince Arthur had a fight with his father last night. They very nearly came to blows."

A woman through and through, Blair's ears perked up. "They did? What happened?"

"Arthur got sent to bed like a naughty child," I groaned, pulling a face.

She laughed—actually laughed! Didn't she understand? "Well, I'll bet that put him in quite a lovely mood," she said almost nastily, a voice I wasn't used to hearing from my serene, sweet sister. Sarcasm didn't suit her, but she knew how much I truly disliked Arthur, and was rejoicing at his expense.

_I _wasn't. "It made him furious," I said, "And _I_ have to attend to him today!"

The color drained from Blair's rosy face. "Why, Tucker?"

"He fired Asa last night," I said, giving the name of the prince's one-time manservant. "So he'll be looking for someone else to take his temper out on—with a smile, of course."

Blair's brown eyes softened in pity. "I'll have an extra-special dinner for you when you get home. But for now, you must go. I'm sorry."

I sighed and finally made myself leave my warm, nice bed. "I know, Blair. I know. Wish me luck. Maybe I'll come back with all my fingers still attached." I stood sadly but determinedly.

She smiled at me. If I was laughing, she must've figured, then it would all be okay. Impulsively she rushed across the room and hugged me, pecking my cheek. "My brave, brave brother," she said. "Don't forget, your just as good as any spoiled prince."

I laughed at her affection, but it made me feel slightly less like I was going to be sick. Slightly less like I was walking into an arena with the angriest lion that ever shook its mane.

How was I to know I was going to meet fate itself today? That I was to see the future of Camelot change in a second? I couldn't know that I was to play a part in the re-shaping of a country, the beginning of legend. It would be many years until I saw that day as part of the bigger picture.

**Break**

"Where's the target?"

And just like that, my heart sank. "Eh?" I said, stupidly.

I had forgotten to put the target up, hadn't I? A really foul word crossed my mind. Today, of all days, I should not have done something so stupid. Today I needed to be perfect, because Arthur would take any chance I gave him to take out his anger. I'd just given him that chance.

When Arthur said something about the sun, I muttered that it wasn't too bright, but I wasn't really paying attention. I was busy thinking of that smile I needed to plaster on my face—where was it? I needed to find it, so I wouldn't look hurt when Arthur mortified me…

"A bit like you, then?"

Ah, there was the mortification beginning. And here was the beginning of the bland smile. I mumbled in reply while I reached for the target. Holding it in front of me, I looked around for the place to set it up.

"This'll teach him," I heard Arthur say with a laugh. _What'll teach me?_ I had time to wonder before the knife hit the target with a dreadful _thump!_

"_Hey, hang on!"_ I heard myself cry in horror. I hadn't really expected the prince to try and take a few of my fingers…!

"Don't stop!" said Arthur with a laugh. "I told you to keep moving!" (He had?) "Come on! Run!" I heard him laugh about moving target practice as another knife hit the target.

_Oh, dear,_ I thought, along with many stronger sentiments that would have shocked Blair. I began to run this way and that, blushing horribly. I knew I looked like an idiot, and the laughter from Arthur's men attested to that fact. I wasn't sure if the humiliation or the fear was the uppermost feeling in me at that moment.

Arthur, I assured myself, was too good at aiming to hurt me. Unless he wanted to. I was pretty good at judging people and their emotions, though, and something told me Arthur didn't really want to hurt me. He just wanted to prove he could step on me, control me, and that made him better than me. I was too scared of knives to tell him otherwise.

He laughed, his light face lighting handsomely. The big bully looked like some type of carefree angel.

Suddenly my foot caught on something, and I felt my body sailing through the air, on its way to hit the ground. The target tumbled out of my hand, rolling away.

_I guess we'll find out if he wants to kill me or not_, I remember thinking as I hit the ground. There was no question; fear was now my uppermost emotion. I winced, expecting a knife blade to dig into me…

And not expecting a foot to come firmly down upon the target. "Hey, come on. That's enough," said a new voice, and I looked up to see a dark-haired, thin man standing there.

I couldn't believe it. Was this maniac saving me? Was he actually challenging Arthur?

Arthur looked just as shocked as I felt. "What?" was all the Prince could manage, staring at the new arrival. I saw that all the cockiness had begun to fade from Arthur. He looked… interested. Even a little nervous. In his own princely way, of course.

"You've had your fun, my friend," said the man with a funny accent. He smiled, but he was anything but amused. I thought he looked a little mad.

Stumbling to my feet, I saw that this man was wearing peasant garb. And facing down Prince Arthur. For me.

Knowing that hiding my face in horror would hardly be impressive, I kept watching.

"Do I know you?" asked Arthur, recovering from his moment of being nervous. He just looked curious now. Curious and dangerous.

"I'm Merlin," said the strange man.

"So I don't know you."

"No." This man – Merlin – looked a little uncomfortable for the first time, but he hid it well.

"Yet you called me friend."

_I should say something,_ I thought, watching the Prince and peasant as Arthur walked threateningly forward, standing about a foot from Merlin. Merlin didn't flinch. But I said nothing. What could I say, after all? It was my place to remain silent.

"That was my mistake," the strange man was saying pleasantly, not fazed by the fact that Arthur was twice his size.

"Yes, I think so," said Arthur, thinking he'd won.

Merlin then told him that he'd never have a friend who could be such a… well, just say I'm glad Blair didn't hear it. And Merlin turned away, triumphant. Arthur had just lost that round of verbal sparring.

But pretty words are worth nothing against a sword, and I knew it. And Arthur knew it. Seemingly only Merlin didn't realize that words were useless against a man with a weapon, no matter how intelligent or true they were. Perhaps this Merlin knew something we did not, of course, but I doubted it.

"Or I one who could be so stupid," Arthur said as he drew his sword.

I felt my heart leap into my throat. Arthur wouldn't kill an unarmed man, would he? I hoped not.

Merlin did not look scared when he turned around. He looked amused. "I wouldn't if I were you," he said as a response to another remark of Arthur's… something about walking on his knees. I felt a little sick.

_Really, I should say something._

Arthur walked forward, still talking, asking this man what he would do. Merlin responded with a laugh and a "You have no idea."

Arthur's cockiness was back. Merlin had finally made a threat that Arthur could easily make look ridiculous. He spread his arms, inviting Merlin, telling him to go ahead, to come on.

Merlin stood still.

"Come on."

Nothing.

"_Come on," _sang Arthur happily. He was sure Merlin would do nothing.

Merlin started forward, as though about to make a move, rethought it, and made a different move. He punched at Arthur's face...which, I was sure, was probably much stupider than any other move he could've made. Instantly Arthur had Merlin in a tight hold, his arms pulling back Merlin's.

"I could have you put in jail for that," said the prince calmly.

"Why? Who do you think you are, the king?" asked Merlin coldly, struggling.

"No. I'm his son. Arthur."

And so Merlin realized who he'd been talking to. But he didn't grovel or cry. He didn't apologize. He just looked like he was cursing, not ashamed, but mad.

Looking back, I think that was when Arthur found someone he liked to taunt more than anyone else. That's when he found someone willing to fight with him. And I think that even Arthur was forced to admire the other man's bravery.

But I wasn't thinking those thoughts at the time—no, I was too busy looking the other way as Arthur squeezed, driving the stranger who tried to protect me to his knees. Merlin was totally helpless.

When I looked the other way, I froze, my eyes meeting Blair's soft brown ones in the crowd. She'd seen the whole thing.


	2. s1e4 The Poisoned Chalice

_A/N: If you go back and watch Episode 1.04, when Nimueh falls over and meets Merlin, there's a woman and a man talking behind them. I changed them up a bit in my imagination and they became Fred and Blair. (This Blair _**IS**_ the same one from last chapter.) Please keep your eyes open. As in last chapter, I will make remarks that tell you a lot about Merlin's secrets or the truth behind Nimueh, or even that hint forward to later actions (such as when Arthur stupidly believes every word Nimueh says later in the episode). Look for them!_

"That's incredible," I heard myself say.

"It was nothing. Anyone would've done it, of course, once they saw how much danger that baby was in," the man I was talking to bragged.

My face smiled. At least, I assumed it smiled; I wasn't really paying attention anymore. Heavens, I loved Frederick, the man I was talking to, but he was one of those entirely unreasonable creatures who expects you to listen to every word out of his mouth—I can tell because he drags out those words, making each clear and precise, as though I must consider them the finest of poetry. And I didn't. I considered them a very well thought out, harmless fiction. If I knew one thing about men, it was to take their words with a grain of salt.

"Oh, no," I said sincerely, "I'm sure not everyone would've. It takes bravery."

If I knew two things about men, it was that it was easier to accept their falsehoods. It made them feel better. Poor Frederick; he was a failure and he knew it, and he knew I knew it, but if making up stories made him feel special, then I wasn't going to take them from him. That would be cruel.

Frederick leaned against the hard, stone wall of the castle, looking proud of himself. "I've still got the scar. On my arm. Want to see?"

"Goodness, yes," I said, smiling.

He pulled his sleeve up the show me the scar on his arm.

"Is that the one?" I asked, knowing it wasn't.

"Yes, it is, Blair. And you should have seen it when I first got it—bleeding like mad!"

"I'll bet." Actually, I had seen it when he first got it. Frederick had been jumped by a couple fellows who were angry at him – I forget why – and they sliced his arm when they beat him up. When Fred was brought to Gaius's from treatment, I had been there. It had certainly bled a lot. Poor, poor Frederick.

I looked up and saw a new servant girl passing by, giving me a pang as I remembered all the chores I had left to do. But I couldn't leave Frederick mid-cock-and-bull story. Men have fragile egos, and Fred's was the frailest of them all.

My eyes followed the servant girl, a little confused. _Who was she?_ I wondered, before realizing she was one of Bayard's girls. She was certainly beautiful, dark eyes, dark hair, pale skin… and clumsy.

I nearly cried out when she tripped and fell to the ground, starting forward to help. But Merlin, the dark haired manservant (the man she'd nearly fallen onto) got there first. He bent down to help her, and the two took an abnormally long time getting up.

I couldn't see the girl's face, but I could see Merlin's. He looked dazed and confused, and already a grin began to split his face. It was a look I knew well.

It had been a very well-done falling act, I noted.

"Sorry," I heard her say. She wasn't, though.

I listened to Frederick with half my brain and Merlin and this girl with the other half of it. Being a girl, as I was, I wasn't going to let a bit of juicy drama pass me by. The girl was obviously interested in Merlin for some reason. I gave him one critical up-and-down glance, and decided I had probably found the reason. He was certainly cute.

"Hi, I'm Merlin."

I looked back at Frederick and didn't bother to contain my grin.

"Kara. You're Arthur's servant. It must be such an honor!" she said smoothly. She'd been checking around to see who he was, most likely.

But Merlin thought it natural that she knew his job, obviously, for he didn't comment. He just assumed she was on the line, that her talk was guileless, because he wanted it to be. So like a man. But very few women were actually like that.

Even I, who my brother called 'uprightly and unfortunately truthful', had more layers to my talk than that. One had to know what one was saying in this life.

"Yes, well, you know, someone has to keep the place running," said Merlin.

I nearly choked. I hadn't known Merlin very long, but I had never heard him say –or even agree with the statement – that Arthur was an honor to work for. He'd used a great many adjectives to describe it ('pain' and 'bother' being the nicest), but 'honor'…? He didn't think she could see through that?

Just like I was doing now, she pretended not to notice his exaggeration. "Thank you, Merlin." I could hear the smile in her words.

"Huh?" He realized he was holding her things, and handed them over. "Oh, right."

"It was nice meeting you." And he watched her as she walked slowly away, like she had nowhere to be. Her hips swung from side to side.

I grinned. Merlin was such a man. I always knew I liked him.

"They say it was a miracle that I survived!" Frederick was exclaiming. I looked politely interested in him. One of the best stories he ever told.

**Break**

"May our differences from the past remain there. To your health, Uther."

Arthur smiled at the foreign king and lifted his hand to his face, preparing to drink. It was a silly thing to do. Surely he knew that the king couldn't be finished.

"To Arthur," boomed out Bayard, meaning to make the most of his having the floor. Arthur bowed his head. Morgana attempted to look sweet when he continued. "The Lady Morgana, the people of Camelot!"

He spun, arms out as though to embrace the country he had so recently wanted destroyed. How fickle politics were.

Arthur tried to drink again, but this time his own father stopped him with more words. I sniggered, but no one noticed me, just a mousy servant girl in the back of the room, cover her mouth with her hands.

"And to fallen warriors," said Uther solemnly. "On both sides."

Arthur once more lifted the goblet to his lips, and this time no one was going to stop him from drinking. I wish I could say I knew something was happening. I wish I could say I felt a premonition, a shiver, something that would tell me the world would suddenly get a lot less funny.

I didn't. I smiled as Arthur lifted the cup to his mouth, as he prepared to drink. I was still smiling when Merlin ran into the room screaming, "Stop! It's poisoned!"

Everyone in the room froze, staring as Merlin barreled into the room, right up to Arthur, and yanked the wine from his hand.

I felt my heart, my body, my mind all turn into stone. What in the world…?

Uther looked angry. "What?"

Morgana looked in alarm down at her own goblet. I could almost hear her thinking, _POISON?_

Arthur looked like he couldn't decide whether to be horrified or amused. "Merlin! What are you doing!" he yelped at Merlin, as though the manservant was a disobedient dog.

Merlin looked unashamed. "Bayard laced Arthur's goblet!" He looked back at Bayard accusingly. "With poison!"

I felt myself turn back into flesh and blood with a vengeance. _If I faint… Oh, where's Tucker when you need him?_

"This an outrage!" cried a furious Bayard, yanking out his sword while his soldiers copied him.

Uther's men did the same, and more soldiers filed into the crowed room as if on cue. "Order your men to put down their swords!" ordered the King of Camelot. "You're outnumbered!"

Bayard did not look impressed. "I will not allow this insult to go unchallenged!" he said as he glared at Merlin.

_Come on, _I found myself thinking with dread. Merlin was just a servant. Surely Bayard could just ignore him. And surely, surely, Merlin couldn't be right about the poison.

Uther looked over at defiant Merlin. "On what grounds do you base these accusations?"

My mind immediately flashed back to a few minutes earlier… hadn't Merlin left the room with that pretty girl just a few minutes ago? I looked over for her—there she was! Standing in the corner! She was watching the proceedings with a smile. A smile! She thought this was funny!

Arthur, meanwhile, had decided that amused was the way to go. "I'll handle this," he said, striding forward and taking the goblet back. "Merlin, you idiot, have you been at the gin again?" He led Merlin back over to the royal family's table.

There Uther met him with the statement, "Unless you want to be _strung up_ you will tell me why you think it's poisoned _now_."

I felt lightheaded, but I forced myself to pay attention.

"He was seen lacing it," said Merlin, his voice strong. He certainly was a brave, brave man.

"By whom?"

"I… I can't say."

Bayard exclaimed, "I won't listen to this anymore!"

Uther ordered them to pass him the goblet. Once he was holding it, he walked around the table and towards Bayard, challenging. "If you're telling the truth…"

"I am."

Uther held out the goblet. "Then you have nothing to fear, do you?"

Bayard put up his sword, rolling his eyes, and reached for the goblet.

"No!" said Uther, pulling back. "If this is laced with poison, I want the pleasure of killing you myself."

I wanted the pleasure of fainting, but I wasn't getting that. I felt my head spin.

Uther turned back to Merlin and offered him the cup. "He'll drink it!"

As Merlin took it, Arthur instantly became less amused and more horrified. "But if it is poisoned, he'll die!"

Uther seemed unmoved by this astute observation, and Merlin surveyed the cup in his hands with fear. "Then we'll know he was telling the truth."

"And if he lives?" Bayard, of course.

"Then you have my apologies and can do with him as you will."

I leaned back against the wall. Merlin was dead. Good heavens, no matter what he did, he was dead. What kind of a reward for trying to save Arthur was that?

Gaius seemed to share my sentiments. "Uther, please! He's just a boy. He doesn't know what he's saying."

But being a king meant you didn't always get to be a human being. It meant you couldn't always care. If you did, all the time, you'd go insane. It was a fact I'd absorbed for years now. So I wasn't surprised to hear Uther reply, "Then you should've schooled him better!"

Arthur was still looking for ways out. "Merlin, apologize! This is a mistake! I'll drink it!" The three ideas came out in one breath, proving his desperation. He reached for the cup.

The silent room watched as Merlin pulled away. "No, no, it's alright." His words sounded too sacrificial, too final. He lifted his cup to Uther, turned around and lifted it mockingly to Bayard. _See this? _His face said. _You don't get to kill Arthur. Just me._ It was a challenge.

Looking over, I saw Kara. Her smile was downright evil.

Merlin drained the goblet, tilting his head back to catch the last drops of the allegedly poisoned wine. Gwen, his good friend, walked forward, every muscle in her body tense.

Merlin put down the goblet and looked around, bewildered. Everyone who met his eyes wore an expression that was a curious blend of fright and relief. Nothing. Happened.

I felt my heart beat pounding in my ears. Still, nothing. Silence. Painful silence.

Merlin gasped out, "It's fine."

Uther shrugged, not human, not caring. "He's all yours."

Bayard started forward; I bit my lip.

Cough.

What? Everyone turned around and looked at Merlin.

Cough. Cough.

My heart sank deeper as pain distorted Merlin's features.

Cough, cough, hack, choke. He grabbed at his throat, gasping, wanting to breathe…

…And collapsed.

Immediately the world's sharp lines grew funny. Everything was deadly silent in the room but mad chaos in my head; funny colors swirled. I couldn't tell if I was standing on my head. Through the dizziness I heard the shout, "It's poisoned! Seize him!" I struggled to stay awake, to focus, but my brain and body had capitulated to stress. The world became gray, then charcoal, and finally black, and everything was gone.

No one even noticed the servant girl slumped against the wall or bothered to revive that girl. Once I came to my senses, I was forced to admit that I didn't blame them.

_A/N: Seriously, if you haven't seen season 1 in a while, go watch this episode. It's a relief to have Morgana (the real one) back. I half expected her to smirk every minute and was giddy with joy every time she didn't. _


	3. s1e8 The Beginning of the End

"_Run! Run!" _

I heard the scream, and a few seconds later, the door to get into the main square slammed.

"What was that!" cried the man in front of me, looking around. He was a fat thing, his clothes too expensive and too vast—he was obviously not just any commoner. This man had money. He must have been from another town, I decided, and he certainly stood out like a sore thumb in Camelot.

"I've no idea, milord," I muttered, my eyes on the ground as I dropped him a small curtsy.

"Sounds like someone's in trouble," he said, absentmindedly wiping his sweaty brow.

Yes._ He _was in trouble. But he didn't know it. Trying to keep my smile humble and insecure, I nodded. "Perhaps, milord, it's an arrest." I pointed to the guards that had begun to run into the square, behind the man I was talking to.

Turning around, he took in the sight. "I hope it's no one dangerous."

I inched nearer. "Yes, milord."

"Probably just some thief."

"Yes, milord." Now I could feel the heat of his body, but I didn't stop. My hand snaked out, seemed to rest in the air right before his thigh for a moment, and then I drew it back in.

Muttering to himself about rampant crimes, the man waddled off. I would never see him again, and I'd never even know his name, but whoever he was, I sure thanked him. He was stupid enough to walk around with a heavy bag of coins strapped around his middle.

So much the worse for him and better for me.

I grinned and flicked my amber curls back behind my ears. I, Charlotte, was the uncontested best pick-pocket in Camelot or beyond. Not bad for a fifteen-year-old girl. I tossed the bag of coins triumphantly into the air.

_Help! Help me!_

I jumped in alarm, nearly spilling my hard-earned booty everywhere. My heartbeat sped up, and I was left gasping in fright… What was that? That voice… in my head. The voice of a little boy was inside my head!

Terrified, I clutched my bag of money tight and turned in a small circle.

I saw nothing, save the soldiers questioning citizens. Odd. It was probably nothing—just an over-active imagination, I told myself firmly. My mother always claimed I needed to fix that about myself.

Shaking myself mentally, I remembered that I needed to get out of here before the soldiers saw me. Who knows? They could have been searching for a pickpocket.

_Please, please, you have to help me!_

I looked up again, eyes flitting to the left and the right. My word. Was it haunts? In the day? My word!

The knights down the square grabbed a man and spoke to him. "You! Have you seen a boy around here?"

My eyes flew open. Heavens! Them, too?

_They're searching for me!_

Oh, no. Did this ghost expect me to respond? It seemed to be searching for a helping hand. But obviously it found someone else to answer instead, because I next heard the disembodied voice plead, _They want to kill me!_

This was truly becoming ridiculous, I thought as I looked around. Was it a ghost? Was I crazy? Or, if not, then what?

Suddenly my eyes landed on a man across the square. It was Merlin, the manservant of the prince. A handsome man, I'd been watching him for a while. He never had anything worth stealing, though. He was doing something very strange—_beckoning. _At nothing.

I was completely puzzled until I saw a small blue cloak rise, as though from nowhere, and run towards Merlin. It was a little boy, holding his arms in front of him, like one injured.

"Hey! There he is!" cried a knight, and my eyes snapped to him. He was pointing in the direction of the little boy, and his comrades quickly looked up and followed his gaze.

I glanced back at Merlin and the boy. They were gone. And so was the haunt.

Puzzled, I continued to stand and stare at the place they disappeared at much longer than was necessary.

Odd.

* * *

I stared up at Uther on the balcony, my eyes taking in the rich cloak, the gold crown, the lined face… and the cold look. Yes, that was King Uther.

I'd always rather admired him. Once he made a decision, he stuck to it. And he did it without changing facial expressions.

"People of Camelot," he boomed, "the man before you is guilty of using enchantments and magic. Under our law, the sentence for this crime is death."

Pity. He was such a good-looking, strong fellow. I'd bet he was the honorable, warm-hearted type. My father had been like that. Seemed everyone of that sort died.

Uther continued, "We're still searching for his accomplice. Anyone found harboring the boy is guilty of conspiracy and will be executed as a traitor."

Ah, I thought. So that's who the boy was. He must've been using magic to call out—but then, why hadn't anyone else noticed?

I shrugged inwardly, suddenly thinking of a much more important little fact. The Prince's manservant was harboring the boy, wasn't he? I'd seen them together…

Struck by suspicion and inspiration, I looked up at the Lady Morgana's window. There stood Merlin, a face like chiseled stone. Next to him was Morgana, but even as I watched, she looked away.

I smiled, just a little. I liked secrets.

Uther was still talking. I looked back at the scene in front of me. "Let this serve as a lesson to your people," he said to the brave, doomed Druid.

The man seemed unimpressed. "You've let your fear of magic turn to hate. I pity you."

Rather stupid thing to do, I found myself thinking. You are the one about to die. Silly heroics.

The soldiers forced the man's head down to the chopping block. I looked away, at the window. Not that I hadn't seen someone lose their body parts before. I just had something better to watch.

The axe swung down, and there was the sharp, final sound of a man dying quickly.

In the window, Merlin looked away. Not so strange for the soft-hearted man.

A cry seemed to split my head open, making me yelp.

_NOOOOOOOOOOOO!_

The scream was raw and pained… and inside my head. No one in the square reacted, but I saw Merlin flinch and scurry from the window. I jumped myself. That scream and the sound of breaking glass (or was that in my head too?) seemed to echo in my mind, giving me a headache.

The woman beside me obviously thought I was upset by the beheading. She turned to me, face full of concern, and asked, "Are you alright, dear?"

I nodded shakily, sparing one last look for Morgana's window. "Yes, ma'am."

I did love secrets. Would I keep this one? Probably. Yes, probably. It wasn't wise to mess with traitors—and besides, I wasn't a blackmailer.

And as the plump, concerned old woman walked away, I picked her pocket. Two gold coins.

_A/N: I wasn't sure how the mindspeak worked, so I decided that when it was aimed at anyone (like Mordred's was), all with the ABILITY to use magic can hear it. But when it's focused (like Merlin's), only the person it is aimed at can hear it. Yes, this means that Charlotte was born with the ability to use magic. Oh, dear. _


	4. s1e12 To Kill the King

Sometimes I wondered if the world was falling apart, if there was no saving any of us. Between kings and sorcerers and hate and wars —Where did I fit in? What did you do if you were just a normal, everyday guy, caught in the middle of it all and not wanting to be?

What could you do with such blurry lines between right and wrong?

Personally, what I did was march. I marched through Camelot, my armor heavy, my face covered in a shiny silvery mask, looking forward. That was my place in this world, and most of the time I didn't mind it. Other times, I pretended that I didn't mind it.

As I, walking with two prisoners and a few fellow knights, approached Prince Arthur, I know I heard his manservant say, "They're to be executed?"

His voice was disgusted.

"Yes, Merlin," said the Prince, his face just as impassive as my helmet. His arms were crossed over his red shirt, his back straight, his eyes narrowed against the sun that beamed down on us.

"By order of the King?" said Merlin. His voice bordered on disrespectful.

"They've committed a serious crime." We were not far ahead of the pair, and I could hear the conversation still. I found myself wondering if he actually believed that, or if he was just holding onto his image. In our crumbling world, he was a prince, and I knew he didn't want to look like anything else.

"Giving a man a bed for a knight." There was no questioning the impudence in that statement.

"Not a man. A sorcerer."

Were they two separate species?

"Maybe they didn't know that!" cried the outspoken Merlin.

The Prince had had enough. Maybe he was annoyed with his manservant, or maybe he honestly had no answer himself. "It is not for you to question my father's actions," he snapped, turning on the smaller man. "Is that understood?"

Merlin looked down. "Yes, Sire." But I could tell he didn't like it. In the midday light, I cold easily see his blush and wondered if it was from anger or shame.

"Now go get on with whatever you are meant to be doing," said the Prince as I passed out of earshot, and Merlin left the royal alone with his own thoughts.

I wondered if they were as unhappy as mine.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of the arrested men. He had dark hair and pale skin, a little like that of the prince's manservant. He was skinny, too, I noticed, and walked with his head down. I wondered for a moment if he was crying, and then I looked away. He really did remind me of the prince's manservant, Merlin… And, when it came down to it, what made them so different that one was going to die and the other was not?

What made the poor man so different from all of us that he had to be killed?

Well, that, at least, was an easy question to answer. The difference between us was that he lived on the outskirts of Camelot and I did not. That he offered his hospitality to a stranger and I did not.

It was a funny thing to execute a man for, I thought, especially if he did not know his home was going to a sorcerer who wanted to kill the king.

But then, I wasn't Uther. I was just a soldier. What did I know about who deserved to live and die? Who was I to make judgment calls?

We kept trudging through Camelot.

**Break**

I was marching again. This time it was late at night, and my steps had a greater urgency to them. The warning bells of Camelot did that to a man; they urged you on and begged you to hurry, hurry, before it was too late.

I went towards the dungeons, my new orders still fresh in my mind. Forget the fair trial, forget that Tom had been a loyal man, a good blacksmith for years—Uther wanted him dead.

Uther was the king. He could say that.

I ran forward, eyes peeled for the dark man somewhere in the night. Someone had already spotted the unconscious guard, just waking up, so we knew Tom was around here somewhere. But did I really want to find him?

It didn't matter what I wanted, I reminded myself, turning a corner and looking behind it. Who was I anyway? Just a soldier who did what he was told. The king's orders were all that mattered…

That's what I told myself when we found the black man, when we surrounded him in the courtyard.

I said it again in my head again when Tom saw us and seemed to cower, bending his legs as though he was considering dropping to his knees.

"_Please…"_ I heard him say, eyes wide and scared. He didn't say anything else, ever again.

Someone ordered us to kill him. I don't know which of my fellow soldiers it was, who brought himself to give to order. But I, like everyone else, obeyed it.

I had just time to wonder if doing just what I was told made me less human before I pulled back my sword and then thrust it forward, into the cowering man…

Then I stepped back so the blood wouldn't run onto my shoes and rust them.

**Break**

"And you will remain here until you learn your lesson," Uther said sternly to Morgana, who sat in a dungeon, her hands held behind her back.

I carefully did not look at the king, for fear he would see my incredulity behind my helmet. I didn't look at Morgana either as I chained her hands to the wall, as Uther had ordered. She took no notice of me, though, and neither did the king.

Because, again, I was just a knight to be ordered around. And perhaps there was something to be said for it, because Morgana never thought to blame me for her state of imprisonment. I wasn't required to think and she didn't expect it of me.

But I did think, sometimes, and I agreed with every word she said when she began to speak to her guardian.

"Then release me because I've learned it already!" she barked, her eyes flashing.

I finished chaining her and started for the door, glad to get away from her angry gaze, but still hanging on every word.

She told him what she had learned, spitting the words in a violent way. "That you care not for me, not for anyone but yourself. That you are driven mad with power. That you are a tyrant!" she cried, losing control.

I glanced at the king. His face didn't change, as though he was not affected at all. Then he turned and, eyes glinting like the steel of my sword, walked away.

I looked at the dawning look of horror on Morgana's face as he left, but I ignored it. And I closed the door, leaving her alone.

My face did not change expressions, like Uther's. Because as far as the world was concerned, I couldn't care less what I was ordered to do. The unaffected face was useful.

Yes, sometimes I wondered if there were too many kings and sorcerers and not enough normal people who would live and let live. I wondered sometimes if it was all falling apart and if I was helping it all become chaos by my compliance.

Then other times, like right now, after days like today, I didn't have to wonder. I knew.

_A/N: His name is Ashby, by the way. I didn't put it in the chapter itself because I didn't feel like he would like to tell us. He's too stuck on the fact that he doesn't have an identity. Whew! Being Ashby for a few pages was pretty depressing! Review? I want to know if I'm doing this good or not. _


	5. s1e10 The Moment of Truth

I never was like anyone else.

When the children of Ealdor said 'Black', then 'White' was already halfway out of my mouth. If I was sick, they were healthy, and vice versa. It was enough to make a little girl scream in frustration, but eventually I got used to it. I know my father (Matthew was his name) had a great deal to do with that, because he was wise for a clumsy farmer.

His talks and the way he told me a story at night, his smile—they all told me that he loved me. I think that his simple love made me feel better.

But that didn't stop the other children from picking on me. They weren't cruel people, of course, just thoughtless kids who couldn't understand me. So they laughed at me. But they probably should have stuck with that other human response to the unknown—fear, that is. Because, and I admit it, I was something to be afeared of, for the very good reason that I was smarter than they were. And that I held grudges. For whenever someone made me feel bad or small, you could bet that they would regret it.

Spiders in their bed.

Mud on their food.

A well-timed push into the village pond.

It wasn't nice of me, I know, but it was how I got back my own. Otherwise, I felt that they would never respect me. And I thought that if I didn't get back at them, I could never get rid of that firepit of anger that I held in my stomach. After a while, none of the smart ones would pick on me.

Because I always got revenge. _Always._

And, I regret to say, Will helped me with that. The troublemaker of the village, he probably saw some promise in me. He was always willing to be the one pushing if I was occupied, and for that I loved him like an older brother. His best friend, Merlin, would shake his head at me, and warn me that this would get me nowhere. I always told him that they were accidents… And he, of all people, should understand accidents. Remember that time when he almost flattened Old Man Simmons with that tree? (Old Man Simmons never liked him anyway, and even less after that…)

But I liked Merlin too. Privately, I considered him the village idiot, but he was good for a laugh, and he was kind. And then, occasionally, he would do something surprising and wise… and leave me and half the villagers gasping in disbelief.

And then, to finish telling you about the men in my early life, there was Elias. I called him Blondie occasionally, but he put up with me. Unless I got really impudent, and then he'd put me over his knee. And if he did, I'd get back at him. And Elias, good-tempered man that he was, would just wipe the mud from his hair and say:

"Eliza, I oughta tan you."

"You do and I'll tell me Daddy," I warned in the bad grammar that I always used when I wanted to sound scary.

"He'll be on my side."

"Wanna bet?"

Elias would laugh and I never would get that second spanking.

So there you go. Merlin, Elias, Matthew, Will. The four men I cared about.

Keep reading, and I'll tell you how I lost every one of them.

**Break**

Merlin was first. He left Ealdor to go to Camelot. I didn't cry when he told me goodbye, like other children would've. I wasn't so silly.

But still, I was hurt. Why'd he want to go to Camelot anyway? What did they have that we didn't? That made me angry.

"Don't look so sour, Eliza," he told me. "Does that mean you'll miss me?"

I glared at him. "That means, don't you ever come back, because if you do I'll get you back for leaving."

"So scary for one so young." I wasn't much younger than him...!

He didn't even have the decency to trip over my outstretched foot when he walked away.

**Break**

Elias was second. And more permanent. That was the harvest when Canaan and his gang showed up, and took all our stuff for eating.

I remember that day so clearly that it hurts.

It was a clear morning, quiet. Everyone was going about their business as normal, and I was playing in the back of my hut. One little girl sat playing on a wooden horse, and one couple sat on the steps talking.

A not-so-normal Ealdor morning, actually, because as of yet Canaan hadn't reared his ugly head. But that wouldn't last long, I realized as I heard the clatter of furious men on horses, saw the dust that only some pitiful excuse for a man or bandit could make as he rode in.

Heaven forbid we should miss his entrance.

People screamed. Some grabbed the children and threw them in the houses (or huts, whichever you care to call them). Fathers and Mothers went looking for their children, then dove for cover themselves. My father didn't look for me, of course. He was already hiding, with good reason.

Canaan sure looked scary up on his horse, and it sparked a bit fear in me. I hated being afraid. I hated it, and I hated him. It made me wish I could put a big beetle in his stew.

"Search the place! Find him!" ordered Canaan, and I knew who he wanted.

The men began to tear about Ealdor as if our houses were sticks to be trashed whenever they felt like it. Two men found me cowering in my place and threw me out into the street, something my chickens protested most vehemently. I wasn't the only one displaced, I knew, and eventually they brought out my father, clutching a basket and some bags.

Our food. Excuse me, their food.

"It's harvest time!" announced Canaan happily, but then he saw what we had for him. His face fell. "Where's the rest of it?"

"I only kept what we needed to survive," insisted my father. I was proud of him for sticking up to them, but at the same time I was nervous. I never put much faith in the whole face-your-enemies-head-on thing, because generally enemies were bigger than you were.

Canaan, may I add, was much bigger than my father.

"Survive?" questioned Canaan, and then he barked angrily, leaning forward, "I'll be back in one week, _farmer, _and I want to see all of it!"

They should have left it at that. They should've nodded in fake submission, I thought then, and I stick to that belief even now.

But Hunith couldn't. She had to stick up for her people, I guess. It just goes to show you, sticking up for yourself only causes more problems.

"You can't take our food!" she cried, rushing forward as if she could stop him. "Our children will starve! I won't let you do this! You're not taking _any of it_!" She reached for the food on his horse, and was rewarded by a slap to her face, so hard that she fell to the ground.

"Hunith!" That was Elias, running toward for Hunith, his soft heart unable to cope with the sight of a woman being hit… and then… and then…

I can barely stand to say it, but I know I must… Then, Canaan lifted his crossbow, face completely cold, and as I watched with wide eyes, he shot an arrow into Elias's heart.

Elias fell with a cry.

He never got up.

Canaan smiled down at Hunith, who my father was helping to her feet, and said, "I will give you a week. Don't you dare disappoint me." Then, directly to Merlin's mother, he remarked, "See you later, sweetheart."

I waited until his men rode out before I screamed and rushed to Elias's side to see what I could do. But he was dead. There was no helping him.

There were to be no more spankings. No more laughs. No more calling him Blondie… He was gone. And if our lives went back to normal, if we ever were rid of those bandits, they would be an Elias-less normal.

I'm still not sure that is a normal worth having.

But don't stop reading now. There's more.

**Break**

My father. Matthew. Yes, he was next, and I still cry about that at night.

By this time, Merlin was back, and he brought that stuck-up Prince with him. That stuck-up Prince... I hate _him,_ too. He killed my father just as surely as Canaan did.

I was the first person to see, but at first I didn't realize what I was looking at.

I'd been watching for Matthew to come back from watch, where Prince Arthur put him, when I saw the horse. I stared at it, stupidly wondering where my father was. Why didn't he stop that horse from entering the village?

Then, of course, I saw that the horse was his.

Then I saw that he wasn't on it.

But then, worst of all, I realized I was wrong… He _was_ on it.

That's when I screamed again.

"_NOOOOO_!"

Stupid of me, I know. As if denying it would bring my father back. All it did was bring the villagers out, so they too could see my father with an arrow in his back.

Prince Arthur came running, along with Merlin, and the rest of the people. They all stared at my father, while I ran up behind them.

"Get him down from there," was the order.

"What's it say?" someone asked (I couldn't say who), and the arrow was removed from my father's back – his unprotected back! How dare those bandits! – so that Arthur could read the note they'd stuck to him.

As if my father, my wonderful, kind father, was a messenger for them to use.

"'Make the most of this day. It will be your last.'"

I heard that, but don't imagine I cared for an instant. At that moment I broke through the crowd, crying out my father's name.

"_Matthew_! _No_!" The shout seemed to rip at my throat and chest as it fought with the sobs, and I threw myself down on my knees.

No. No. He had to get up. It was a flesh wound, right? _No no no no no! Matthew!_

Those were my thoughts. Please don't laugh, I couldn't help it. I knew, I knew he wasn't getting up… But I had to pretend. I just couldn't bear the thought that this was the second person I'd lost to an arrow in so many days. I couldn't let myself think that he'd never hold me and whisper my name, Eliza, like it was a precious medal… He'd never drop something and let me laugh at him again… I couldn't bear it. Sometimes, even now, I think I'll turn around and see him looking at me…

Will had appeared. He was yelling— at Arthur, I think. "You did this! Look at what you've done; you've killed him!"

Merlin spoke up, "It wasn't his fault."

Why weren't they upset too? Matthew had been everyone's friend… Didn't they care he was not getting up?

"If he hadn't been strutting around, treating us like his own personal army, this would never have happened!"

Arthur hadn't been there when Elias died. Was that his fault, too? Maybe… I couldn't think straight enough to tell.

Prince Arthur spoke up. "These men are brave enough to fight for what they believe in, even if you aren't!"

Brave. Yes, being brave was one of my fathers best attributes. That's what killed him. Why did he have to be brave? I wanted him alive!

"You're sending them to their graves!" argued Will. He looked at my father, at me, at Merlin, and continued, "You've killed one man. How many more need to die before you realize this is a battle that can't be won?"

Why was he arguing over my father's dead body? It wasn't something to fight over. They should be helping him up... But he wasn't getting up...

Didn't they care?

They stared at Will as he finished, "When Canaan comes, you haven't got a chance. You're going to be slaughtered."

Then he walked away.

Something someone once said came into my head, then, unbidden. _A brave man can die once, but a coward never lives at all. _Did my father believe that? Was that why he went and died?

I pushed the thought away and went back to crying.

**Break**

Will was last. The third man I lost to an arrow from Canaan. The third I lost for the sake of that stupid prince.

The worst of it was that I actually thought the killing was over. I thought that the men who tried to break us had run away into the forest again. I thought Arthur wasn't so bad after all as I watched him cut down Canaan.

I thought I still had something.

"Who did that?" demanded Arthur, stalking towards Merlin and Will angrily. What was he talking about? "Wind like that doesn't just appear from nowhere. I know magic when I see it."

I thought Arthur was crazy. What magic? I hadn't seen anything… then, I hadn't been looking...

"One of you made it happen."

I was standing back, waiting for them to argue this out so that I could rush forward and throw my arms around Will and Merlin and be glad that no one would threaten us again. I wasn't quite sure what Arthur was going on about, but it couldn't be too serious, not right after he had just won a small war.

I wasn't thinking too straight right then. Otherwise, I'd have realized both what Arthur was talking about, and that the universe wasn't planning on leaving me be. I'd lost so much those past few days.

You'd have to be crazy to think that the world was going to let me get away with keeping any part of my heart intact. Plumb crazy.

_"Watch out!"_

And with that, I lost Will.

He pushed Arthur out of the way, and the arrow landed in his stomach instead of Arthur's back. Then he fell.

I didn't scream this time. I almost expected it, I think, subconsciously.

Arthur and Merlin got to their knees. Arthur choked out, "He saved my life."

"Yeah," gasped Will, the troublemaker. "Don't know what I was thinking."

Neither did I, I thought numbly, and stared at him.

"Come on, get him inside." I think that was Arthur, but I could be wrong. My brain was melting in my skull.

I didn't follow them inside, even though that meant I wouldn't be there for Will when he died. And there was no doubt in my mind that he would die.

Someone up there hated me.

Suddenly it all came crashing down on me, and I fell against the wall to my house where I now lived alone. It supported me, because I couldn't do it myself.

Merlin, still alive but never there.

Elias, gone because he went to help a woman who fell down.

Matthew, dead because he was brave.

Will, dying because he saved a man's life.

All were no longer there to be with me. I was alone. Surrounded by people, and I was alone. And the last three… All taken by Canaan's men.

But some of Canaan's men were still alive.

I felt something frost over in my chest, and I think it was my heart trying to preserve the few pieces it had left. My eyes went dry, for I think the tears froze in them.

Canaan's men. They took my loved ones from me. They destroyed my life.

And I wouldn't let them get away with that, I thought as I peered off into the forest, eyes as hard as they'd ever been.

_Run away fast now, men. Faster. Hope you never see me again, because I'll be looking. Because I always, always get revenge. _

_Always._

* * *

_A/N: This is for __**JumpingOverMountains**__, who requested it. Like it? Please review if you did! Or if you didn't. I wasn't planning on going backwards, but there you go. This is my last one for Season One. I'll start Season Two, but not for a while. These are getting heavy! I'll try to make the next one light-hearted._

_Oh, by the way, if you happen to be a reader of my Future Fics, the third one is reacting badly with technology. But it is up, even if you didn't get an alert or something. It's called _A Mother's Tears.


	6. What Happened Next s1

Hey! No, this isn't S2 beginning. Just… does anyone wonder what became of my OCs/small characters? I have a story for all of them, but I figured you might like to know it.

What happened then: Season One

**Tucker:** Well, he grew up and got old. Nothing spectacular for him. He was married and had 6 kids. And he stayed a servant. His adventures were limited to little everyday ones. But it can be assumed that he knew everything that went on in the castle, because he's pretty observant. He even knew about Merlin long before Arthur did, but he didn't say anything. Either because he's a bit of a coward or because he liked Merlin. You decide which. Perhaps his life would've been more exciting if he wasn't so quiet and easy to step on, but who knows? He was reasonably happy, anyway.

**Blair:** Blair keeps working at the castle for a while, content to be her smart little self until she meets a man that makes her rethink everything she knows about men. She falls, pretty hard, and they get married. Then he dies at the end of S3, during that scene that involves knights and a long, drawn-out "NOOO!" (I won't spoil it for those of you who haven't seen it yet.) It's really hard on Blair, alone with just a little boy to take care of. She works doubly hard and manages to scrape by alone, but then, several years later, she falls head over heals for another man… a Knight of Camelot. I think I'll make it Sir Kai. (He's originally Arthur's step-brother in the legends, but this show butchers them anyway.) She marries him, because after all, if the King can marry a commoner, so can he. She then lives to be old and gray and rich. She raises her kids and is always willing to give financial help to her brother if he needs it.

**Charlotte:** I don't think I'll tell you… because I firmly intend to someday write a story with her in it. Rest assured that she'll end up okay. (Actually, she'll end up in Ealdor. Don't worry, we'll get there.) I'll tell you when I get to her story.

**Ashby:** I love this dude. But he's _so _depressing. It fits that he should have a depressing story, right? Remember the last of S1, Morte de Arthur or whatever it was called? In the very beginning, there is a knight who helps clumsy Merlin when he falls down and gets killed himself by the Questing Beast. (And Merlin, strangely, doesn't seem to care.) I wanted that to be Ashby, but the show declared him Sir Bedivere. So Ashby died in a similar situation, running from his life from something angry with fangs, and then saving Merlin, but the silly servant never even notices Ashby's fallen behind. Then you hear a loud, piercing scream and no more Ashby. (Is Merlin sad about his death? Well, he'd better bring flowers to the grave or _something._)

**Eliza:** Oh, she's got a totally awesome back story that involves a LOT of hiking and the one-by-one hunting down of certain members of a one-time gang. She's got some ninja skills, to put it in my native slang. A couple of them die, and a couple end up in prison, and she lets just one go for her own reasons. It's like one of those action/adventure superhero stories that I love so much. At last she finds a town that she feels comfortable in and settles down. She never marries. Is this a story that begs to be written? It is. I might do it.

So there you go! If anyone is unhappy with the way any of these stories ended, please say something. I'll consider revising.


	7. s2e3 The Nightmare Begins

**A/N: Hey. I hate to start so late in the season, but I couldn't think of anything else to do. I mean, I could do one of those bodies shrouded by mist in 2.01, but I didn't care for the idea. (Where'd the mist come from anyway? I forgot.) And 2.02… All I could think was someone in the stands, and who cares to read about Arthur whacking some knights over the head while some random dude takes the credit? I don't. Of course, I could have written from the random dude who got the credit's POV, but Mrs. Bonner got there first. (Go read her story "****Courage: the Tale of Sir William of Deira." ****I know I enjoyed it.) So here I am with this… stuff. By the way, I have a poll on my profile that I desperately need all of you to vote on. It's been tied for a week. Also, if you're interested, I wrote a story called "Matchmaking", which is about Blair and how she met her first husband! You should check it out if you liked Blair. Also, what episodes would you like me to do from S2 and 3 so that I can get prepared? Please say in a review or message! Don't worry about forgetting this stuff, I will tell you again at the end of the chapter! Yay! So sorry about the long A/N. I shall now get started. Meet matter-of-fact Sorridel. (I didn't make that name up; the show did. But I think her friends call her Sorrel.)**

Living alone in the lower town, a young (and rather pretty, admittedly) woman, I knew that I had to be able to defend myself. There was one too many stories of girls that were not careful enough, in their actions, choice of locks, or in their choice of companionship. I was determined from the get-go that I would never be one of those stories. For one thing, it would be _so_ humiliating.

So, logically, I just had to find a way to protect myself. I could learn how to fight: which nerves to pinch, how to throw a man over my shoulder, etc., but the idea didn't appeal to me. If I wanted to learn that sort of thing I would have to ask a man to teach me, and unfortunately I hadn't known many big, strong men since my father died and my brother left town. Another option was to just blast whoever bothered me with magic. This was probably not the wisest choice. I didn't know any destructive spells, for the Druids were loathe to teach me that sort of thing. Also, I didn't really want to kill anyone. And if I left them alive, then I would be burned or hung or whatever it is they do the sorcerers these days. (King Uther can't seem to make up his mind. He just knows he wants them dead.) So I took the only logical choice left to me and bought a sword. I couldn't use it well, of course, having no one to teach me. But it wasn't too hard to put a blade to someone's neck and say, "Get away from me." I bought another knife that I hid in my dress.

They didn't come in handy for a few years.

And then, one day, I actually got a chance to use my sword.

It had been a long day. The man I was working for presently (he wanted a dress for his wife) stopped by and yelled at me for not sewing fast enough. "Sorridel, I paid you to have this done by wife's _birthday_. That's in two_ days_!"

His big face grew red. I felt a pinprick of irritation, but just smiled calmly. "It will be done, Lord Tribulor, I promise you that. And you haven't paid me yet. If I don't get it finished in time, you don't have to."

"If you don't get it finished in time, you aren't getting a red cent!"

I had just said that. But you never insult the customer; besides, it was his choice if he wanted to be repetitive. "Yes, milord."

"And if I don't like it, I am going to a different seamstress," threatened Lord Tribulor. "And I will be sure to warn people of your dilly-dallying, as well as your inferior designs."

Now he was just being nasty. "You will love it, milord." If he didn't, I'd be forced to ram my needle into his eye. I smiled slightly, dangerously, and put my head back down to focus on my stitches, brushing my blonde hair from my face. I forced myself not to scowl.

Once he had left, I put down my sewing, sighing. I didn't want to sew right now. If I did, all I would be able to do was sit and simmer over that pompous… _jerk_, Lord Tribulor. Seething in your anger is never a good idea; my father told me that once. All it does is make you unhappy. And I trusted him on this one. Before his death, my father had been the happiest person I knew, and I was friends with the drunk next door, so I knew 'happy'.

Instead of sitting there, I left the half-finished dress – which I might have decided to finish with magic to meet the deadline – on a chair and went to my friend Alys to be cheered up.

"So_rr_el," she said simply in her strange, rolling accent, "Nobles are mean."

I'd forgotten Alys's vendetta against everyone with the rank "Sir" and above, and by bringing up Lord Tribulor, I just made her look like a storm cloud. She was now kneading bread for her family's dinner, slamming the dough with so much force that I expected the table to snap.

Trying to lighten the mood, I tried to say blithely, "Isn't that a bit of an oxymoron?"

She glared at me through intense green eyes. She didn't know what an oxymoron was. "So_rr_idel," she warned me, "if you are coming to complain, you have no reason to be making bad jokes." Only with her accent, she said, "Sorrrrrrrridel, f yu arrrrrre come-in to cumplain, yu haf no rrrrrreason to be make-in bad jokes."

"But," I pointed out, "you aren't going to sit and listen to me complain anyway."

"Then you have no reason to complain. But since you do not want to go home, you can buy me some things I need at the market, okay?" She flipped her brown hair over her ear and continued kneading the bread.

That's how I found myself spending the morning running errands for my friend Alys.

By the time I got home and locked the door behind me, I was tired. All I wanted to do was be alone for a while, and so I plopped myself down on my bed and tried to take a nap. That didn't work. For some reason guards were swarming about the town, yelling and stuff. It kept me awake, partly from the noise and partly from a little bit of worry. I hadn't liked guards since I started helping out Druids that came to the town for supplies. I always felt like they suspected me.

So I got up, sat in the corner, and began to sew.

A few minutes later, my door opened. I froze. Hadn't I locked it…?

A dark-haired, thin man pushed on the door and walked in as though he owned the place. I paused, waiting to see what he wanted. As I sat there, he headed straight for my bed and pushed aside the curtains covering it, eyes flickering over my sheets.

Okay, that was a good enough answer for me. I reached for my sword, which stood by my chair, and stood, a feeling of fear briefly flooding my body.

Silently, I rushed forward, blade up. He was looking at my bed still, and seemed disappointed to find that I was not among the mussed up sheets. And if that wasn't a sign of nefarious intentions, what was? He had a lot of gall, breaking in here in the middle of the day!

When he stood up straight, muttering, I put the point of my blade to the cheap cloth of his shirt. "Move," I threatened, trying not to sound frightened, "and I kill you."

His hands flew up in surrender and he shouted something in alarm. It didn't sound like English… Wasn't magic, either. And I was pretty sure he didn't mean to say, "Farrado!"

_Ah, _I thought, _a mumbler. _

"Who are you?" I asked, undeniably curious.

He kept his hands up in the air as he replied hurriedly, "There is no time to explain. We have to get out of here!" He turned halfway around so he could look at me without having a blade stab him. I got my first good look at him, and I have to say I was impressed. Probably a year or so younger than me, with dark, straight hair, high cheekbones, and big blue eyes all framed by light, clear skin. He didn't look scary; he looked sweet. Of course, now was not the time to be contemplating how nice the intruder looked (even if he really did look nice), so I forced that out of my mind. He went on, "The King's men are coming for you."

He didn't mumble_ that_. Alarmed, I thought of the Druids. _Oh, dear…_

There was a banging, thankfully not on my door, but close. I turned my head to look worriedly in the direction of the street, which was not visible through my covered window. Then I looked back at the intruder.

Was he on the level? I wondered. Did he really want to help?

After a second thinking it over, I came to a decision. Pursing my lips through habit, reluctantly put down the sword and beckoned towards the back door. When I started for it, the nice looking man followed me. We reached it and opened it (thankfully there was no creak), escaping out into the backstreets.

Behind me, I heard the sound of banging on my door, and with a surge of gratefulness, I thanked whatever there was up there that was good for sending this boy to me. I shut the door.

**Break**

A few seconds later, we were several houses down, peering at the guards who were presently breaking into my house and looking for me.

A thrill of fear went through me again, but I pushed it away. Just a few more minutes and I could've been in _deep_ trouble. I had to leave Camelot now. Alys would miss me, but at least I wouldn't be minus my head.

_Maybe I can go to the Druids,_ I thought, watching the men in armor. _They'll help me decide what to do. They owe me, anyway. _

Turning around, I saw the dark-haired man looking over my shoulder. "How," I asked, "did you know they were coming for me?"

He was breathing a little heavy. "I'm Prince Arthur's manservant," he answered, as though this was no big deal and he did it everyday. Alys would love it.

I nodded slowly, not exactly surprised, but slightly bemused. Why would he do this? Of all the people – for I could see several under arrest – why would he choose to help me? Because I was a woman? If so, was it chivalry or something else? I wanted to believe it was because he was a soft-hearted, noble man. That's the kind of man he looked like. But I wasn't naïve enough just to assume that—most people in the world wanted something in return for their kindness.

At last I said, "You took a great risk. Thank you." I continually glanced behind me at the soldiers, knowing that in a minute they would realize I was not at home and widen their search.

"I'm sorry I couldn't help more," he told me. Which sounded suspiciously like something my neighbor would say when he was _very_ happy and therefore willing to over look the fact that he had fifteen years on me. But I glanced at him again and saw that he hadn't meant it like that.

I felt my lips purse again. "We'd better go…" I started forward into the street, taking advantage of the fact that the men were looking away.

"No, wait!" he cried, grabbing me and pulling me back. He had me by my shoulders and facing him, which was a move that did _not _remind me of my kindly neighbor.

He continued, still breathing hard, looking anxious, "I need your help. I'm looking for a way to contact the Druids."

The feeling I had now wasn't nervousness or caution; it was full-blown suspicion. So the Prince's servant wanted to know how to find the Druids? Right. "I wouldn't know anything about them," I said.

"You don't have to lie to me." I again wondered irreverently if he talked to my neighbor often.

"I'm not lying," I lied.

He looked really stressed out. Poor man. And he looked so nice. "_Please_," he begged. "If it weren't for me, you'd be under arrest!"

That was true. I bit my lip and glance back the soldiers. We needed to hurry.

"You _know_ I'm not a… spy for Uther."

I looked back at him, grappling with myself.

He shook me a little, but not violently. "I'm a friend of the Druids. I need their help."

He put his head down but stared deeply into my eyes. He silently begged, looking at me. No, scratch that. He _smoldered _at me. My heart skipped a little… from pity. He didn't look like a spy, though that proved nothing. But he saved me. Did he save me out of some ulterior motive? If I told him and the Druids were hurt, I could never forgive myself.

Still.

Something about him… I couldn't place it, but he just felt so trustworthy. And I did owe him my life. That was a debt that couldn't be ignored, especially as what he wanted could be innocent enough.

I sighed in defeat. "What do you want to know?"

**Break **

As soon as I got to the Druids, they told me just who I had informed of their whereabouts.

Emyrs.

_The _Emyrs.

I gaped at them in disbelief first, and then I thanked that benevolent power-that-be again for helping me make the right decision in telling him what I knew. Then I asked the Druids for a bed for the night, after which I would make my way to my brother's house in Cenred's lands. They obliged, thanking me again for all the help I had been over the years.

It was the middle of the night when I woke up and it suddenly hit me. Lord Tribulor. I'd forgotten all about him and his dress and his wife.

So apparently she wasn't getting a birthday present this year.

In the darkness of the tent, I threw back my head and laughed until tears leaked from my blue eyes and the one of the Druids came to ask what was wrong.

Oh, that snobby Lord Tribulor was in _so_ much trouble…

**A/N: Well that was fun! Note: According to google translate, Tribulor means 'in trouble' in Latin. I hope you enjoyed. Please review and tell me what you thought and which other episodes from 2 and 3 I should do! Also, don't forget to vote on that very important poll and to check out "Matchmaking" for some fun and light reading! **


	8. s2e6 Beauty and the Beast Part 2

"_Just shut up and give me the crown!"_

I looked on as the shocked Geoffrey of Monmouth reached for the crown to hand over, but he was much too slow.

I watched as she scowled and nearly roared, "_Will you just hurry up_?" Her voice was low and gravelly.

I gawked as she grabbed the crown from the bearded man's grasp and thrust it upon her head.

I ogled as she ran from the room, ignoring the king's shout of, "Katrina!"

My mouth was open and my eyes bugged out of my head as he followed the distraught woman, followed by the Lady Morgana in that low-cut white dress, followed by the one-time Crown Prince of Camelot.

The entire room was silent for a moment. I looked up and around, and saw everyone in the same amount of shock as I was—with the exception of one or two people, who were smiling to themselves in part amusement, part disbelief.

The next time I saw the Queen Katrina, she was a troll.

Yes, I stared.

I decided that it was just about time to tell my wife.

* * *

"Martha?" I called out, not too loudly, as I entered our bedroom. If she was sleeping, I didn't want to wake her…

"Gregory?" she responded at once, her voice clear and devoid of sleep.

I sighed in relief and made my way through the darkened room, kneeling beside the bed. "How are you feeling, dearest?" I couldn't resist stroking her blonde hair gently as I spoke.

"A little better," she told me, smiling. She pushed my hand away, making me wonder if she was nauseas again. She never did like being touched when she felt sick. "I didn't throw up today," she added with a small chuckle.

I winced. "Did you have your sister bring Gaius to you, like I asked?"

"Of course; why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know, Martha," I said gently. "Why do you do half the things you do?"

She pretended to look offended as she remarked, "I just don't care for doctors; I'm not exactly committing some horrible sort of blasphemy there."

I didn't push it. My wife was generally a patient woman, but as of late she'd start to take something as a joke and suddenly become offended. I heard that it was to be expected.

"So you're feeling better?" I asked worriedly, leaning over with my elbows in her cot.

She nodded.

"No headaches today? Or pains or…?"

She rolled her eyes around the small but clean room. (Clean? Did she get up and clean it? I felt a spark of worry… I told her that I'd pick up!)

"Gregory. Stop fretting. You're annoying me." Her harsh words were belied by the fond way she ran her fingers through my dark hair. She paused and peered at me with concern or a moment, moving her head to get a better view of me. "Gregory, what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"There's something wrong."

I sighed and stood up. "Yes, actually, there is. Camelot is falling apart."

"Again?" she remarked dryly. "I've only been lying in this bed a few days; what could've happened in that amount of time?"

"We had to pay that new tax," I reminded her, feeling guilty for admitting my problems to her in this condition. I'd forgotten not to upset her. I was so stupid.

"Yes," she said, "I remember. Your friend Joseph stopped by and collected the money, didn't he?"

I nodded. Joseph was a guard of Camelot, but I hadn't seen him in a few days. Not since I watched Prince Arthur demand that he give the people's money back.

"Well, that hardly means the sky is collapsing on us," she said in that same ironic, practical voice that she was so famous for.

I didn't want to tell her, but then… No, actually, thinking about it, I did want to tell her. My wife was much more intelligent then I when it came to these matters. "But everything else is in chaos too!"

"Like what?" she asked, curious.

"Well, no one can afford to pay the taxes! Uther wanted them _flogged_ if they didn't pay. And when Prince Arthur stopped them… Uther's disinherited him! Katrina is going to be the next in line to the throne, Martha."

"That's horrible," she said, but he voice didn't even rise in volume.

"And Katrina accused your friend Merlin of stealing from her. Uther sent guards out after him; he'd have killed him…"

"But Merlin wasn't caught, was he?" She actually looked concerned this time, and tried to sit up, so I held out a hand to stop her.

"No, I think he was warned, and he escaped. Uther was furious, wanted to spread out the search, but I don't think they'll catch him."

"You don't? That's good… But why not?"

"Well, they found a trail to follow, but it won't lead anywhere… I saw Merlin just this morning, standing above the throne room on the second floor, watching as Katrina was crowned heir to the throne. I can't believe no one else spotted him."

Her nose crinkled up in that way it has of doing when she was smiling really big. "Just like him," she commented. "For a clumsy man, he sure is sneaky."

I couldn't help smiling and commenting, "I'll keep that in mind next time he talks to you."

She whacked my arm, but my smile faded as I recalled the rest of my news. "Also… There's one more thing."

"What?"

"Katrina… she's a troll."

Martha choked. "Greg! You can't talk that way; it's treasonous!"

"No, I'm being serious! She is a purple, round, tusked…" I floundered for good words that were appropriate to use before my wife, "…_stinking_ troll!"

This time, Martha was staring. That kind of news could throw even her. "Oh," she said slowly.

"Yeah," I replied. "Oh. Camelot is falling in to chaos."

She nodded. "It is rather… problematic."

My wife had the gift of understatement. "_Problematic_?" I moaned. "It's horrible! We've got a troll next in line to the throne, and Uther refuses to either believe it! He's been… enchanted or something! What can we do?"

She thought about it, her pale face characteristically still. "I would suggest," she finally told me, "going to bed."

"_To bed_? Right now?"

"It's late," she reasoned. "Things will look better in the morning. They always do."

"How can it look better? Our child will be born into a country with a troll ruling! We'll be taxed to death and… and…"

"…Sleep-deprived," she added. "Let's have tonight to have the news sink in. Tomorrow we'll talk."

I stared at my overly-collected wife in disbelief. (Maybe she was in shock? That couldn't be good for her. I shouldn't have told her… Of course, she'd have heard soon anyway, but still…) And, still in a haze of incredulity, I actually went over and crawled into my own cot.

I still stared at Martha with amazement. Could she be right? Could it be better tomorrow? Could we work past this?

I was so busy thinking strenuously that I forgot to take my shoes off before getting in bed. I was so busy thinking, as a matter of fact, that I left my shoes on all night long. Martha made fun of me about it in the morning.

**A/N: I have to say, I like practical, intelligent, dry Martha better than worry-wart, wishy-washy Greg, but then I'm actually a little worried that they are both too flat to be realistic… Are they okay, do you think? Review and let me know.**


	9. s2e7 The Witchfinder

**A/N: May I tell you something? When someone slinks out from behind a pillar while you're having a perfectly normal conversation with someone else and whispers, "Do you smell it?"… DO NOT TRUST THIS PERSON. Duh. Yeah, the Witchfinder episode. Aredian, that… that… meanie. The character POV is Annette, the woman Tucker's courting. She's a bit bolder than our dear Tucker, but she's having a hard time of it. (It may interest you to know that though she's not seen in this chapter, Blair is already married and pregnant with her son, though Blair is the younger sibling.)**

The first time I saw the Witchfinder, I had just left Tucker's company and was on my way to Claude. Usually I wouldn't need to see the old man, but I hadn't much sleep the night before and my mother had been telling me all day how tired and dull my eyes looked. And I wanted to look nice for Tucker when he came that evening, so I grabbed several coins from my savings, wrapped myself in my warm shawl, and headed down the street.

I smiled at Gaius, the court physician, as he walked by me with Merlin trailing behind, but the man seemed too preoccupied to notice me. Slightly insulted, I brushed past him and walked past several stalls in the narrow street, nearly bumping into a grizzled older man with light, staring eyes.

"'M sorry," I mumbled, but he, too, took no notice of me.

(What, was I invisible today?)

Instead, he stepped out from behind a stall and called out in a cheery voice, "Gaius, isn't it?"

I stopped and turned around, wrapping my shawl around my tighter. I don't know why I did that. Maybe it was the idea of this stranger knowing the physician and greeting him so casually. Gaius also stopped and turned around, holding his cloth doctor's bag (when I was little I used to think it was 'the miracle bag').

The stranger spoke smoothly, coming forward with a smile. "I never forget a face."

Gaius didn't smile in return. "Nor I, _Aredian_."

"A physician now, I hear," commented the stranger – Aredian – but he didn't sound happy about it. He sounded as if he was actually making some kind of mean joke. "You always did have a thirst for knowledge." I couldn't see his face, yet I could tell the smile had disappeared.

"Scientific knowledge," Gaius assured him, his eyebrow tilting upward.

"Of course."

Reluctantly, Gaius turned around and gestured at the dark-haired man behind him, who was looking on with a suspicious expression. "My assistant, Merlin."

"Merlin?"

Okay, it was official, no matter how nice of a man he might have been, I didn't like the way this man said people's names. I hoped he never had a reason to say _mine_. I could just imagine him spitting out "Annette" like that.

Gaius nodded, and pressed on, "May your investigation prove fruitful, Aredian." (Investigation? Hold on— was that the Witchfinder everyone was talking about?) "However, you'll have to excuse us; we have work to do."

"Naturally."

Gaius and Merlin, faces as solemn as death, turned to leave, and so did I. But I was stopped by Aredian's voice again as he called out, "Merlin?"

Merlin turned to face him and I looked over my shoulder to see him.

"I have a few questions I'd like you to answer. Please be at my chambers in an hour."

Merlin looked stricken for a moment, and I didn't blame him. The Witchfinder wanted to ask him _questions_! Then the boy nodded, his mouth slightly open, his jaw clenching nervously, and turned around again.

My brow furrowed as I continued on, thinking about the grizzly man with the smooth voice. What questions could he have for Merlin, the prince's manservant? Perhaps they were perfectly innocent questions. Probably they were…

Before I even realized it, I was knocking on Claude's door.

The door swung open to reveal a squat man with wild gray hair and snapping eyes under his brow, but he smiled kindly despite his rather strange appearance. "Annette!" he greeted me. "How can I help you today?"

I smiled in return as I held up the coins in my hand. "I need something from you. Mother says my eyes are dull and tired today; do you have something to fix that?"

He nodded. "Going somewhere special tonight with your sweetheart?"

Chuckling, I shook my head. "My family's just cooking a nice dinner, and he's coming over. Nothing big."

"But you want to be able to see him clearly, I suppose?"

"Yes, sir."

"I think I have something for you. Will make your eyes much brighter… Belladonna. Eye drops."

"That sounds fine, Claude. I thank you very much."

* * *

It was that night, in my home, when I saw it. The stew boiled over the fire quite happily, and Tucker sat in our main room, enjoying the heat from the flames. Father was talking to him… something about land and houses, I think. My younger sister was helping my mother prepare a place for us to sit. The main door was open, allowing the cool night air in, and all about me was the picture of perfect domesticity.

Except the flames. I had a strange feeling about them all evening, as though they kept drawing my eyes towards them. I tried to ignore it.

It was past ignoring now, for as I paused in the center of the room, walking towards my father and Tucker to tell them to come eat, I saw that there was something in the fireplace.

There was something in the fireplace, and it was alive! I stared in horror for a moment or two, watching green legs that didn't burn flicker over the red-hot heat while two yellow, glowing eyes stared into my blue ones.

And then its mouth, a gaping black hole in a gnarled face began to move, and words came forth.

There was something in the fireplace, and it was speaking.

Foul words issued from its mouth in a crackling, throaty voice, crashing over me and sending waves of disgust through me. The voice rose and the figure grew, the flames wrapping around its body like ribbons on a Maypole. It was shouting at me now, and I couldn't move, just stared in terror as it grew bigger and seemed to glow and—

"Annette?"

Tucker's concerned voice broke the spell. I jerked away from the sight of the thing in the fire, sweat pouring down my face…

And I screamed. Rushing forward, I threw myself at Tucker and felt his arms go around me.

"Annette? Annette, what is it, what happened?" My father's voice joined my beau's, and my mother and sister came to see what was wrong, but I didn't want to talk to them. I just burst into tears and hid my face in Tucker's shirt, to heck with propriety. My eyes felt burned from the ugliness and darkness of what I had just seen.

After a moment I looked up into Tucker's concerned brown eyes and sobbed, "A goblin! In the fire!"

I turned and pointed, shaking.

But it was gone.

* * *

I stood in line before the king of Camelot, bouncing nervously on the balls of my feet, casting uncomfortable glances at the two girls on either side of me. I didn't know them, and they didn't know me, but we all had one thing in common: a story that King Uther needed to hear, according to Aredian.

(Yes, when Aredian heard my story, he said my name. Yes, it sounded demeaning and yes, I couldn't help but be slightly offended.)

The Witchfinder was at this minute pacing around the throne room like some kind of caged animal, stopping next to me and the other girls only to speak to us. He stopped behind the girl to the left of me, who had tears in her eyes. I felt bad for her. Whatever she'd seen must've been as bad as what I did.

Many people were in the room, including Tucker near the back. All were looking at us with varying degrees of concern on their faces. Guinevere wasn't next to her mistress for once, but stood near a pillar with her eyebrows drawn together. Merlin kept whispering what looked like assurances to Gaius. Arthur looked us up and down with an expression that looked like worry. Uther was in his throne, head high, reserving judgment.

I was nervous. I was practically frantic. Generally speaking, even mentioning something that could be magic to the king was like willingly stepping in a snake's nest, and I didn't like snakes.

Aredian said in a low voice, "Speak, do not be afraid."

(He was as frightening as Uther. Maybe more so. Uther did not stalk about the room like a caged animal and whisper in our ears.)

The girl, who had dark hair pulled up in a knot and a plain face, wearing peasant garb, began to speak, her high voice shaking. "I… I was drawing water from the well, Sire, when I saw them. Faces." She paused, the tears making her eyes shinier. I felt another surge of pity, but Aredian just leaned closer to her as though he didn't want her to bolt. "In the water, Sire; terrible faces! Like people who were drowned!" Uther turned his head to the side, worry visible on his features. She continued, her voice breaking with sobs, " Screaming! _Screaming_!"

She looked shaken up, but Aredian didn't seem to care. I glanced back behind me nervously, hoping to spot Tucker, and saw Merlin mutter to Gaius. I couldn't read lips well, but it looked as though he was pleading his innocence to the physician. (Odd.)

The Witchfinder moved on until he was standing behind me. I wanted to push him away but didn't dare. "Tell them what you saw," he said into my ear.

_He's not going to hurt me, _I thought. _I'm not scared. _My mind flickered back to the fire, and I felt the terror begin to run through me again. I knew I had to tell everyone, but the thought of saying what happened out loud…! My knees began to knock. I couldn't look at the king. (When he was angry, I positively melted in fear. People could get hurt when he was angry, and I was innocent.)

Staring at the floor, I spoke in a quivery voice that wasn't like me. Usually I was so sure of myself. I grabbed my shawl for protection. I wanted to go home.

"A goblin," I said distantly, remembering. "Dancing on the coals; it was dancing _in_ the flames. And it… spoke, Sire." I saw Uther move out of the corner of my eye, and I found the courage to look up at him. He didn't look angry, but was leaning back in his throne with an alarmed crease on his forehead. Gripping my shawl, I forced the next words to come out evenly and clearly. "My heart near stopped for fear of it."

At last Aredian walked away from me, and the eyes of the Lady Morgana and Prince Arthur and King Uther and everyone else in the room left me. I sagged in relief and looked back over my shoulder again, just barely catching a glimpse of Tucker.

"As you've heard, Sire," Aredian was saying silkily, "the incident in the woods was only the beginning."

The girl next to me had hair as blonde as my own, but a rather larger nose. She immediately began to babble about a sorcerer with toads coming from his mouth. I guessed she was frightened too, but that wasn't nearly as terrifying as faces or goblins, was it?

I was so relieved that my ordeal was done that I stopped paying attention, rather focusing on trying to get my knees to stop knocking – there was nothing to be afraid of! – and wishing that Tucker could come hug me right now. Heaven knows I needed it.

But perhaps I should've been listening, and then I would have known why something Aredian said suddenly caused the whole room to erupt in disbelieving mumbles.

_Did I do something? _was my first (stupid) thought, but apparently it wasn't me.

The Witchfinder was still talking to the king. "My methods are infallible; my findings, incontestable," he insisted. "The facts point to one person and one person alone!"

Everyone looked nervous. I thought the brunette to the right of me was going to have a heart attack.

Aredian spun about dramatically; his finger pointed stiffly, and shouted, "The boy! Merlin!"

(So, no, I guess I didn't do 'something'.)

I looked at Merlin, the high-cheek-boned lad, for a second. He didn't look like someone who would bring a sinister goblin into my home. Why would he? He knew Tucker was courting me, and he _liked_ Tucker, didn't he?

From behind me the prince's voice rang out in barely suppressed laughter. "You can't be serious…"

Gaius, next to Merlin, was not so amused. "This is outrageous! You have no evidence!"

I couldn't help but think of the way Merlin hissed things to Gaius as we told our stories. Aredian, meanwhile, insisted that he be allowed to search the boy's chambers.

Uther spoke to the servant. "Merlin?"

Merlin raised his chin. "I have nothing to hide from him."

And surely that was true. Merlin was known as a clumsy, smiley servant. He couldn't be…? Could he? No…

"Very well. Guards, restrain the boy. _Let the search begin_."

I shivered. This could end very badly for Merlin.

The minute we were excused, I rushed to Tucker and hugged him, telling him how very frightening the king was up close. I don't think he listened, though; he kept muttering to himself that Merlin would never do a thing like that, that Merlin wasn't evil. He seemed very upset that his friend was accused of doing the things that had frightened the other girls and me.

I could understand that.

But I couldn't help but notice: Tucker said Merlin wouldn't do something like that. Not once did I hear him mutter that Merlin _couldn't_ do it.

The thought of Merlin pleading to Gaius still in mind, I wondered for just a second if Tucker knew something I didn't.

Surely not.

The search would turn up nothing, I was sure.

Because Arthur would've noticed if his own servant had magic and was using it to make demons and frogs appear, right?

(Right?)

* * *

**A/N: I wanted to add in the scene where Merlin says that Aredian's a liar (mostly because the way he runs forward and the way Arthur catches him under his arm is just SO DANGED ATTRACTIVE that I had to watch it three times), but it didn't seem to fit, because that was a really emotional scene and Annette isn't all that emotionally attached to Gaius or Merlin. So I left it out, but I do suggest you watch it if you can… It was SOO cute and sweet. Also, through no fault of my own, this update is rushed. So please inform me of typos; I couldn't catch them all. OH yeah, please review. And Tucker does, at this point, at least have suspicions about Merlin's magic. **


	10. s2e11 The Witch's Quickening

**A/N: I hate this episode. Really. Why? Everyone is so grumpy the entire time! Morgana is angry at Uther. He's mad at her. Arthur's mad at Merlin. Multiple times. Mordred's mad at Merlin. (Everyone's mad at the poor boy!) Oh, and Alvarr's a womanizer. And he's grumpy too. But at least we get Morgana's line: "And you, Uther; you will go to hell." It makes me laugh. Is that mean? I wanted to do the episode **_**Lancelot and Guinevere**_**, but that didn't come late enough in the season/series. So this is what you get. Also, we get a piece from a character we haven't seen in a while, but she isn't forgotten, I promise. No, almost every time I write a crowd scene, I imagine her in it, picking someone's pocket… She'll be back in s3e13, too. **

**Review? After this will be a "What happened to them" chapter, and then s3 will begin! **

* * *

**Charlotte**

_Keep going, keep… The north door (north door)… Straight ahead; keep going… Hurry…_

I woke with a start, the voice echoing around my head, jerking and hitting my head against the wall behind me.

For a moment, I had no idea what was going on, but gradually the mist around my mind cleared, and I rather wished it hadn't. Because I was tired and hungry and sore, and I was hearing voices again.

Actually, not voices… Just one voice. Not that it mattered; one or one hundred, it was scary. It had been about a year since this last happened, but I remembered the voice perfectly, and it was the same one, positively.

I shivered a little in the cold of night, noticing that it was raining, though the lip of the roof above me kept the rain off. I was sleeping in a small alley between houses, curled up comfortably in the same spot as always. There had been a time when I moved around, a different place every night, but sleeping outside was dangerous (especially in this part of town) for an almost-sixteen-year-old girl. I was relatively certain that no one around here had an interest in molesting me, like that guard who had tried to grab me a while back. No, it was just me in the alley, the young couple in the house behind me, the old woman who sometimes showed up, and that crazy old man who thought he was talking to his son across the street.

All of them would be sleeping now, so why wasn't I? I wondered sleepily.

_It's not much farther now. _

Oh, right. Voice of mysterious young person in cape. In my head. Disturbing my sleep. "Stupid haunt," I grumbled to myself. I considered getting up and seeing what was up with the caped person (was he still wearing a cape?) like I had last time. Perhaps the prince's manservant and the Lady Morgana were up to something again. I never did figure that out entirely…

But I was cold, hungry, and most of all tired.

I really couldn't make myself care enough to stand up and venture out into the streets of Camelot.

_Be careful… Morgana's chamber is next. _

Oh, so that cloaked being had people with him. And they were going to see Morgana. Couldn't be Merlin; he knew where Morgana's chamber was.

Hopefully I wasn't missing anything too exciting.

I went back to sleep.

* * *

**Lewis**

**That day**

"Well, aren't you going to beg for your life?"

I flipped over a dead guard, checking to see if he was really dead, but I watched Alvarr and his prisoner out of the corner of my eye. Just like the blond man; he was dragging it out, standing in front of the kneeling knight.

The knight, another blond, stared up at Alvarr. I was too far away to see clearly, but I suspected his eyes were large and frightened. "A knight of Camelot does not _beg_," he snarled, putting a lot of disgust in those words.

Apparently they didn't learn how to avoid being attacked either. This knight hadn't watched his back when his men were being attacked; he didn't even know better than to be wary of a supposedly injured man lying on the road. And that was the oldest trick in the book—the book, which, incidentally, I couldn't read.

The guard I was looking at was dead. I glanced at Alvarr's girlfriend to see if her man was dead too, and she nodded briefly at me, then went back to watching Alvarr, who was speaking again.

"Indulge me." He lifted his sword at the ready.

"I'd rather die."

Well, that was convenient.

I could only see Alvarr's back, but I knew he was smiling. "Who am I to deny a man his last request?"

He brought the sword down, stabbing the man. There was a choking sound, and then he was dead. Alvarr stepped out of the way of the blood, a little late… He would have to wash that chain mail off if he wanted to wear it when we snuck into Camelot.

I looked at my brother, who would be taking the armor of the other guard. He nodded at me in acknowledgement from the other side of the wagon that we had just jumped.

Alvarr turned to the boy who had appeared next to him. "We must go if we're to make Camelot by nightfall."

The boy lowered his hood, showing Mordred's waxy features. He smiled. (But he didn't talk. He never talked.) Apparently he wanted to reach Camelot by nighttime. That was okay by me. I was just here to stab whoever Alvarr told me too so that magic can come back to Camelot… or something like that.

We changed quickly, Alvarr donning the knight's clothes while my brother and I disguised ourselves as guards. I helped Mordred into a barrel, because the Druid boy would need to stay out of sight. Esmeralda, the sassy wench, wasn't coming this time, which I thought was kind of a shame. I liked looking at her.

We climbed onto the ownerless horses and wagon, and started our trip to Camelot.

Somewhere along the way, it started raining, which made my brother cranky, though I didn't mind. We made our way to Camelot, and had the wagon inspected by some rather useless guards. I made a mental note to come back and pillage, steal, or whatever else came to mind someday. This place was just waiting to be robbed… For heaven's sake, we were smuggling a Druid boy into Camelot. Sure, it was dark, but that was no excuse to be blind.

There was a point when I actually thought they were about to find Mordred, and I saw Alvarr put his hand on his sword. I did the same, tensing for some action, but I was disappointed.

Maybe, I decided, I wouldn't come back and rob Camelot. There was no sport in it. It would be almost an insult to my pillaging skills.

The guards let us past.

Alvarr relaxed up in the driver's seat, and pulled the wagon forward. After a while, he stopped and climbed down, brushing his wet hair from his face. He gestured to my brother and I, not speaking a word, telling us to lift the barrel that held Mordred and walk behind him.

It was a silent trek through Camelot. I wasn't sure how Alvarr knew what he was doing, but he never faltered in his determined gait, so I figured he knew. There were weirder things about Alvarr. The only sound was of rain drops pattering down on the metal we were wearing. I glanced around, taking in the position of everything out of habit. There was a blacksmith shop along the way, but they rarely had anything worth taking. A girl with reddish blond, almost orange-ish, hair slept in an alley. I took note of that, though I didn't know if I'd have a chance to come back.

We made our way to a door that I wouldn't have spotted if not for Alvarr, especially not in the dark, and slipped inside. There was a small room out of sight that we came into, and my brother and I put Mordred down, both letting out identical sighs of relief. He was getting to be heavy, that pre-teen boy.

Alvarr looked around nervously as Mordred popped up out of the barrel.

"You ready?" he asked the dark-haired boy.

Mordred nodded.

They left us with the order to stay put, which disappointed me a little, but I decided to just go with it.

"So, Daniel," I said to my brother, removing my helmet. I turned and looked at him, watching as he removed his own headgear. His dark hair was plastered to his face with rainwater, and he looked a little like he'd been dragged through mud, his big red nose the only clean part of his face. I knew I didn't look much better. Not that it mattered.

He sighed and leaned back against the wall of the secret room. "Lewis, looks like we're gonna be here a while. They still have to find the Lady Morgana and convince her to help us get that Crystal."

"Yeah," I agreed, chewing my lip as I thought. "They'll be gone a while… You know, on the way here, I spotted this girl in an alley…"

"Alvarr told us to stay put," he reminded me. "Stay put and out of sight."

I sighed and leaned against the wall next to my older brother. "Oh, well." Small loss. Stay put… That's what I was being paid for, anyway.

I waited for our leader to make it back.

**A few days later**

I watched from the trees as the knights and guards – and one scrawny serving boy – of Camelot came into our "abandoned" camp, thankful that Morgana – another looker, by the way – had warned us of this in time. If we didn't catch them by surprise, there was no way we could beat them.

We were going to ambush them. We were going to win, I thought, smiling in anticipation of finally getting some action. I kept my bow at the ready as my brother shifted next to me.

The blond knight – Prince Arthur, unless I was mistaken – squatted down and felt our cool, dead fire.

"Well, whoever was here, they're not here anymore," he commented to the scrawny servant.

But the servant had a funny look on his face, and I could've sworn he was staring right me. "Yes, they are," he mumbled, and I panicked.

He knew we were here. We were about to lose our element of surprise, and I couldn't let that happen. I pulled back my string to my cheek and released. That's what I was paid for. The arrow streaked through the air, right at the prince, and it would've hit him, too, if he hadn't been moving so he could look at the servant and ask what he meant. As it was, it embedded itself in the knight behind him, who screamed in pain and fell to the floor, dead.

Before they could react, my brother's bolt found another man, right behind the servant. He died, too.

"Good job, Dan," I congratulated him, and then we were attacking.

I could see Esmeralda using some of her mouth-watering agility to kill a few men with ease, and Alvarr fighting with fierce determination. He wanted to protect his crystal, I think, and the Druid boy too.

"Run, Mordred!" screamed the blond man, and I think the boy did, but I didn't care to notice at the time.

I killed a guard and saw my brother fall behind me, and I thought distantly that I wasn't happy with that. I kept fighting, not really paying attention to what I was doing. I just knew that I was supposed to go for the men in the red capes. Easy enough to spot.

I don't know when exactly I fell. I just know that suddenly a fire erupted in my stomach, and my back hit the ground. I lay there for a while, too, watching the fighting around me, a little disgruntled when someone stepped on me. I was slowly fading, I know, like a campfire that everyone forgot to get wood for.

Slowly fading.

Looked like Camelot was taking back the crystal. That would make Alvarr angry.

I kept watching Prince Arthur stab and parry, Alvarr try to fight off the men converging on him, and I think I saw Esmeralda fall at one point. Like me, she didn't get back up.

Meanwhile, even the ashes of me were starting to fizzle out.

_Dying._

I wasn't paid for that.


	11. What Happened Next s2

_A/N: Remember reviews are always welcome on my story! :)_

_Anyway, I'll be posting the first episode of s3 next. I think you people will like Willard, Ashby's best friend. His POV is coming up. So, for now, here's a summary of what has happened/will happen to my OCs/small characters. _

_By the way, I don't own Merlin. But I do own Blair, Charlotte, arguably Ashby and Eliza, Gregory, Martha, arguably Annette, and Lewis. _

**Sorridel: **Hers was probably the hardest for me to come up with, possibly because she actually has a few lines in the show, making her the biggest small character I ever "created". She stays with the Druids for a very short while (things don't end well for the Druids, you know) and then she moves on to stay with her brother for a while until she can establish herself as a seamstress again. When Arthur's king and magic is no longer against the law, she moves back to Camelot. Her friend Alys, though (if you remember her) runs away in a few years with some guy. It's a pretty big scandal, and Camelot never hears from her again.

**Gregory and Martha:** Martha's pregnant, which a few of you picked up on, and they have a daughter. They have a second child later, named Jeremy, who grows up and becomes the alleged "best blacksmith in town"… According to some lovesick girls. Unless the show does something which I totally don't see coming, my plan for Jeremy (as those of you who read _Warlock Takes a Wife _can guess) is for him to actually end up married to Merlin's oldest daughter. As for Gregory and Martha, they just end up as some happy grandparents.

**Annette:** As you remember from Tucker's future, she'll get married and have six kids. It's not a very exciting life, you wouldn't think, but it's okay for this couple. Unfortunately they don't always have all the money they need… Good thing Annette's generous sister-in-law's second marriage was into money.

**Lewis:** Well, I suppose you know how he ended up… and his brother too. (As for Alvarr, heaven knows where he got off to…) So I thought you might like a little background… It's nothing spectacular. He was raised in a really poor family that never really taught him enough right from wrong, and when he got older and couldn't find a good career and was pretty good with weapons, he decided to go out for hire. Not a savory character. But I kind of like him.

_A/N: For those of you who wonder, I do still plan to write a story for Charlotte and Eliza, but it may take a while for me to get there. I'm really busy. Maybe sometime this summer, after I finish my chapter story I'm working on now, I'll get around to writing one of them. Thanks!_

_Does anyone have a problem with my imagined endings?_


	12. s3e1 The Tears of Uther Pendragon Part 1

**A/N: I hate Morgana. Hate her.**_HOW CAN SHE LIE TO THAT FACE?_** Merlin's scared/happy/oh-gosh-please-don't-kill-me face is the cutest thing I've ever seen. I could barely look at her, I was so mad. So, yeah, I wish there were more of that Merlin is this chapter, but there wasn't a chance. Here we go! Vegetables, catch the reference to last chapter? And Mrs. Bonner, I think you'll like this character because of his connection to Ashby.**

"Check for survivors."

I looked around the field with a sinking feeling in my stomach. Survivors? I didn't think so. The entire grassy field was covered with red— both from blood and from the red cloak of Camelot's knights, as well as our flags still plunged into the ground. But I followed Prince Arthur's orders, coming forward slowly.

I saw Ashby beside me, his face in the expression I've come to recognize as "I'm trying not to care." Other knights and guards from our patrol also started towards the slaughter, peering at faces and wounds, looking for signs of breathing.

I had never been afraid of death, not really. As a young child I was nearly killed by a fever, and I remember feeling no particular fear as I approached the border into whatever came next. Later, I wondered if my fever-self knew best. And again, a few years later, I was nearly crushed by a wagon with a runaway horse. I wasn't all that crazy about the pain, but death again hadn't seemed all that scary… Just a little uncertain and vaguely interesting. So no, I'd never feared death. But that was my life perhaps ending—it was a lot worse when it was someone I loved. Death has a tendency to hurt everyone but the one it is affecting, maybe.

I knelt on the ground, the sinking feeling only increasing. What if I knew the man I checked on?

The blood-covered man was a stranger. He was dead. Closing my eyes, I breathed a quick prayer and moved onto the next one. Looking up, I saw the other men doing the same, and Ashby closing his eyes briefly.

I looked down towards his feet.

The dead man there was his cousin.

_Oh, Ashby. _The poor man. When I first met Ashby, about a year ago, the cold man wouldn't have been as affected by the death of a relative he barely spoke to, but recently… Well, that had to hurt. But Ashby picked himself up and moved on, and so did I, pretending not to notice the wetness in his eyes.

"_No man is worth your tears."_ I'd heard Prince Arthur say that to his knights, but I thought it was a lie, because I'd lost a father and brother. I'd cried.

The next man was dead too. Peter, that was his name. Quite the jokester among the guards.

After that, I didn't look at their faces any more.

At last I heard Prince Arthur speak, acknowledging that they were all dead. "Seems their attackers are headed north. Come on."

He got up and started to walk away (no tears there), when his manservant called out to him. "Do you think we should be going after them?"

Arthur turned around and looked at him with some disgust. "You are _such_ a girl's petticoat."

I looked around at all the dead man, strangers and friends, and I couldn't help but wish Prince Arthur wouldn't joke around right now.

As we walked back towards the horses, I found Ashby beside me. "You alright?" I asked.

"Of course," he told me, pretending that he didn't understand what I meant. Or maybe he actually didn't. His eyes were dry.

* * *

"Ow."

Merlin was complaining again. Same as usual. I kept walking, on foot just a little ahead of the manservant.

"What is wrong with you?" asked Arthur, but not as if he really cared. More as if he was just looking for something to say.

"Well, I've been on a horse all day."

"Is your little bottom sore?"

"_Yes._It's not as fat as yours."

I bit back a smile, trying to keep a straight face. I think I was actually pretty successful. I had been training myself to copy Ashby's expressions, finding it rather useful.

Arthur laughed. "You know, you've got a lot of nerve… for a wimp."

Prince and manservant were always digging at each other. No one in our group even raised eyebrows; we were so used to it. I'd heard people wonder why Arthur didn't fire Merlin, since he obviously found the man so annoying. But they reminded me of my twin brothers growing up: always fighting and irritating each other, but only because they really cared about each other deep down. Sometimes our Mother doubted it, saying that they must hate each other.

But I saw Harold's face when his twin passed away, and I knew better.

I shook away the thought and listened to the squabbling boys again.

"Well, I may be a wimp, but at least I'm not a… dollop head."

"There's no such word," said Arthur, his eyes still on the road before him. I think that was to keep a straight face.

"It's_ idiomatic_."

"It's _what_?"

"You need to be more in touch with the people…"

Arthur rolled his eyes, but I personally couldn't help cheering for Merlin in my head. It was always nice when Merlin won, and I felt he was going to. "Describe dollop head."

"In two words?"

"Yeah."

"Uh, Prince Arthur."

Merlin won. Just when I thought I couldn't keep the snort in, Arthur pulled up short and lifted a hand, halting all conversation. There was a camp ahead of us. I felt my limbs tensing, preparing for anything as Arthur slipped off his horse and drew his sword. The rest of us followed his lead (with the exception of Merlin, naturally).

We approached the camp slowly, swords out, watching for any sign of life or danger. Arthur crouched near the ground, making hand signals. The knights were near the front; the guards, the back. Merlin stood right in the middle, not crouched over. His knees weren't even bent. I wanted to tell him to duck before he got hurt…

…But at that moment, there was the sound an arrow whistling through the air, and with a strangled scream, one of the knights fell forward. There was an arrow in his back.

My eyes widened and I looked back up as a battle cry filled the air, and we were under attack.

* * *

I opened the door, removing my helmet with a sigh, feeling my shoulders slump with exhaustion.

"Daddy! Daddy!"

I shut the door behind me, smiling as the sound of little feet slapping against wood reached by ears. Suzanne barreled through our small one-room house, separated into two, reaching the front room and spotting me. Her blue eyes lit up.

"Daddy!" she screamed again, launching herself at me.

"Hello, sweetie," I said with a smile, picking her up and kissing her cheek. She giggled when my sandy beard brushed her cheek.

"Willard?" Amanda turned around, looking like an older version of her daughter, smiling at me. "It's good to have you home!" She came forwards and gave me a kiss, standing on the tips of her toes.

I nodded at my short wife. "I didn't get a chance to send word ahead; we came back early."

"You mean…?"

"Yes, we found the Lady Morgana!" I laughed, giving Suzie a twirl so I could hear her laugh again.

Amanda pressed her hand to her chest, closing her eyes. "Oh, thank God," she breathed in real prayer. "I thought the deaths would never stop." She opened those blue eyes again, smiling at me so widely that I thought it must hurt. "Now you can stay home more!"

"Indeed," I agreed, putting Suzie down, though she protested. "Oh, honey, Ashby's coming over for dinner tonight. Is that fine by you?"

She sighed, a little annoyed. "I'll see if we can stretch it."

"Come on, don't be cross," I teased, pulling her into a hug. "You can't blame him for liking your cooking."

"That man needs a wife!"

"Maybe he's just having trouble finding a woman great enough. I took the last one."

She paused. "Alright, you manipulative thing. Have your friend for dinner."

"Thank you, he needs it. He's having one of those weeks when the bloodshed makes him regret ever being a guard of Camelot."

She gave me an understanding look and went back to her cooking. I sighed and sat on our bed, pulling Suzie back into my arms, my grin fading from my face. To tell the truth, after seeing Peter and Ashby's cousin, I was having one of those weeks too.

I remembered a time, not too long ago, when Ashby on one of his bad days turned to me with that defeated look in his eyes.

"_It's all killing," he said, his eyes darker than usual. "It's all killing and no one's happy. It's like…" He lowered his voice and I got the impression that he'd never told anyone this before. "Like it's all falling apart." _

"_No," I said after a moment. "You can't think of it like that. I always thought… as a guard, you can help people who need it. Protect the people, even if you aren't nobility and can't be a knight."_

_He didn't say anything else and never spoke of it again, but I could tell Ashby thought about it. I think he even believed it sometimes, because I saw his face flash between pride in himself and outrage as he told me how he saved a young girl from being taken advantage of by a guard, one of our own. _

I knew I had been right, but I agreed with Ashby that sometimes it was hard to see the bright side.

* * *

Sentry duty. Not so bad, really, though it was a bit boring. Still, with everything that had been going on lately – the king seeming to lose his mind, the Lady Morgana coming back, getting attacked on the trip not too long ago – boring wasn't so bad. It was a chance just to walk around a bit and enjoy the night air, even if I had to keep my eyes peeled for trouble while I did it.

I looked at the grooved wall as I walked across the castle wall, wishing distantly that I didn't have chainmail on so that I could scratch that horrible itch on my back. Amanda had promised to save my dinner for me to eat, but it would probably be morning by the time I got home. I hoped she would understand, and then decided to think of something else. I promised to take Suzie to market tomorrow, and maybe let her pick out something small. She always liked that.

Smiling, I kept walking, and didn't notice that I was near Lady Morgana until she almost ran into me.

"Lady Morgana?"

She had been walking in the opposite direction as me, wearing a bright red dress and cloak, her dark hair down. I wasn't a great deal older than her, but old enough to remember her when she first came to Camelot. Morgana had always been a pretty child, and was now a beautiful woman. Uther would probably marry her off soon… Or he would've. After the kidnapping, he may have decided to keep her close.

She gave me a bright, slightly fake looking smile. "I was just taking a stroll."

A stroll? I felt my eyebrows draw together. Why did that strike me as odd? Maybe I just assumed that, after everything that had happened to her in the past year, she would want to stay inside more. Yes, that would be it.

A strange dripping sound reached my ears, and after a second I looked down. "What's that, my lady?"

"Nothing."

A dark liquid, hard to see in the night, dripped onto the ground next to her, falling from her arm. Concern awoke in me.

"Y-you're bleeding."

She froze up, looking nervous for a second before she tried to blow it off and brush past me. "It's fine, really, it's…"

I stopped her from going. If she was hurt, she needed help, no matter what she thought. Wondering what accident she's been in, I stepped in front of her to block her. "You're wounded!" I insisted, reaching forward and pushing aside her cloak so that I could see the injury.

I caught a glance of something in her hand, brown and dripping… What was that—?

Pain. Sudden pain ripping through my abdomen, taking me by such surprise that my mouth fell open, and I was suddenly reminded that chainmail is little good against a weapon at extremely short range. _What happened? What hit me?_

I stumbled backwards, feeling gravity pulling down on my body and wondering why I couldn't hold myself up.

_Pain, pain, oh my this hurts what happened oh Amanda Amanda pain rip hurts… painpainpain. _

I saw Morgana smiling strangely, and it felt so off… It didn't make sense… Why was she smiling? What was going on anyway?

Suddenly gravity got a lot rougher with me, and my head didn't seem to be facing the right direction anymore. Why was I upside down?

I hit the ground and only then did it occur to me that I had fallen off the wall. Hitting the grass hurt, too, but there still seemed to be shock and pain waves radiating from where some weapon had hit my chainmail, and I felt my fingers curling around the blade in my middle.

Why did Morgana do that?

Was I dying? Was that blood on my hands? My head throbbed where it hit the ground, and I could feel blackness rising up, but before I went I had just one thought. _What's Amanda going to think when I don't come home? _

Then I was gone, but still I felt time passing, and I realized I wasn't quite dead because I still hurt in a detached way. That didn't seem fair, but I wasn't sure why.

Time passed.

Time still passed.

I felt sun on my face.

And then suddenly I heard voices, and knew I'd been found. Was that Leon, perhaps? Someone was touching me now. I could've sworn I heard Ashby's voice, just for a moment, whispering, "It's going to be okay, Willard. It's going to be alright."

I was put down again and then was once more aware of nothing but time.

At one point, I knew I was coming back up out of the darkness and endless time that had enveloped me… I thought I heard someone moving, and I was warm. Like being in bed. But there was no Amanda beside me.

And then I felt something wet on my tongue going down into my throat. I swallowed it instinctively.

Then a little more time passed, just a bit more, and I felt all my body and muscles seem to tighten, seize up. I was floating away.

I had an idea that I knew what was going on, but I wasn't sure why. After a second, I decided that I didn't need to know and might as well go now. As I had when I was young, I went to go meet death without fear. But this time it accepted me and I didn't go back.

* * *

_A/N: Okay, the characters need to stop dying on me. Really. If this show would stop killing people! See you all soon, please review and tell me what you think of Willard._ _I rather like him myself :) But I'm mad at Morgana for killing him!_ _REVIEW!_


	13. s3e4 Gwaine

**A/N: For the first time, this is a character that wasn't actually made up for this story! The main character for this chapter is a boy named Hector. Maybe you recognize him from my story **_**How to Accidentally Kill a Warlock**_**? He's the squire with the horse. Anyway, I decided that he was a cool enough OC to get a chapter! (This chapter is set before HtAKaW though.) Also, to insert sarcastic comment of the chapter: Arthur gives the fake Sir Oswald a man-hug. Merlin doesn't get a man-hug, and he's Arthur's BFF AND isn't actually a bad guy in disguise! Unfair!**

I sighed to myself as I walked down the stairs of the castle, going over things in my head. First, of course, I needed to go see to Havoc, my horse. Then I needed to go and make sure Sir Bors's armor was clean… Check with Bors and see how training was…

And there was something else.

What had it been?

I stopped at the foot of the steps, trying to remember. There were too many things for a young teenaged boy to remember! But as a squire, that was my job. _Work, _I thought to myself. It all boiled down to work.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Prince Arthur passing by me on his way into the courtyard, the ever faithful Merlin following behind him. _I wish Bors had a servant that useful. _But then, most squires had to do what I did. Only Prince Arthur's servant was so unlucky, because, well, it was _Prince Arthur_. Besides, he didn't have a squire.

"Sir Oswald!" I heard Arthur call out, and looked up from my boots (where I always looked when I was trying desperately to remember a forgotten chore).

Prince Arthur was approaching two knights – not from Camelot, probably here for the melee – who were just getting off of their horses. The one with dark hair and a short beard that reminded me of Bors's smiled at the prince.

"Didn't think you'd be brave enough to show up."

"And miss the chance of putting you on your backside?" The man (Oswald) took Arthur's hand and hugged him one handed, like friends did. But there was something stiff in the way Oswald moved that struck me as a little odd. But I forgot about it quickly. (Later, I would strike my forehead when I remembered how fast I let it go.)

"Ha-ha." Arthur grinned at Sir Oswald, not yet noticing the blond knights standing next to him. Merlin, too, stood back awkwardly. "You've never managed it before."

"That was then; this is now."

Arthur punched his arm, still not picking up on how forced the knight sounded. Or maybe he did. Maybe Oswald always sounded like that. What did I know? Then Arthur looked at the other man expectantly.

"Sir Ethan," offered the blond, shaking hands with the prince.

Arthur turned back, and I could see his face. "This is my servant, Merlin." He pulled Merlin forward, smiling at the knights. Merlin was not smiling when he heard the prince's next words. "He _loves_ hard work, so if you need anything, give him a call."

Oswald's grin stretched. "Believe me, I will." I felt a brief surge of sympathy for Merlin, because I recognized the look on Oswald's face. It was the expression I wore when I was fixing a particularly difficult dent in Bors's armor: _"Okay, now it's personal. You are in for a lot of pain, O Recreant Dent." _

Merlin seemed to realize then that he had been handed to a man who liked to make work because of a chip on his shoulder. He smiled awkwardly and glanced at Arthur. I could only see half of his face, but I knew that he was really wishing he would be saved.

Arthur left with another nod at the two knights, and Merlin watched him go. From my place at the foot of the stairs by the statue, he looked a little resigned. He met my eyes for just a second and I smiled.

He smiled too and rolled his eyes expressively.

Nodding encouragement and sympathy, I went to finish with my own chores… Check on Havoc, that stupid horse, and then, uh…

Blast, what was I supposed to be doing again?

I shook my head, rubbing my eyes. I went into the stables when I arrived, immediately singling out my horse. "Hey, Havoc," I said, rubbing his nose.

He snorted, but I wasn't impressed.

"Been causing problems, you stupid horse? Of course you have. Named Havoc for a reason, eh?" He nudged my arm a little harder than was probably kind. "Watch it," I told him. "Don't hurt me; I feed you."

Meeting the horse's big brown eyes, I couldn't help but grin. Then I went to get him some oats, talking the entire time. I enjoyed conversing with my horse. He might have been a stubborn creature with a tendency to nip, but he didn't give orders (verbally, though he silently bossed me around) and talk back.

"I've just been feeling sorry for Prince Arthur's servant," I told him. "Don't tell anyone I told you this, but I think Sir Bors is a bit easier to work for." Then he tried to bite the hand that fed him and I pulled away. "Oh, don't bother telling anyone. They won't listen to you. Look at me, talking to a horse. You're bad for my mental health!" He didn't care. I rubbed his neck. "So, are you excited for the melee? Not that you can go see it, but the rest of Camelot is looking forward to it. Sort of contagious. Don't worry, I'll tell you all about it…"

* * *

The sun was bright in the sky and trumpets were playing, and everyone was babbling like birds in the morning. The melee… My heart felt light in my chest as I helped Sir Bors prepare. The excitement was, indeed, contagious.

"Don't worry, Sir Bors," I told him. "You'll win."

He laughed a little nervously. "Are you so sure of that, Hector?"

I smiled at him and handed him his sword. "You'll be incredible!"

"But will it be unbelievable how good I am, or how bad I am?"

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Sir Bors didn't really believe that he would be horrible, but he always acted as though he did. I didn't understand it, personally. I couldn't do anything well unless I had convinced myself that I would, but the opposite seemed to be true for my knight. _Pessimist, _I thought.

"Good," I told him. "Definitely."

He patted me on the shoulder fondly. "Here goes nothing, then." And then he went to mount his horse.

I felt like bouncing up and down on my feet, but I managed to control myself. One day I would be with those men, fighting. The idea was intoxicating; fighting for honor like a man. In my mind, I placed myself among those two lines of knights in armor. My smile widened.

The king came out, and everyone stood for him; when he sat, everyone sat.

The horses were nervous, ready for battle, and the men were ready too with their blunt blades. Then suddenly, as I caught my breath, the men were running and the clash of medal on medal thundered through the dirt-floored grounds, up into the stands and beyond.

The melee had begun.

The fighting was fast and furious, but I followed Bors with my eyes, not wanting to lose sight of him. Occasionally I would glance over at the prince, who I truly expected to win. I wanted to see victory without being disloyal to my master, who really was doing very well.

Bors nearly fell off his horse, and I gasped, but he straightened.

Two of the knights seemed rather determined to knock the prince into the dirt, but even when one nearly stabbed him from behind (I saw the king start to stand in his throne), the prince saw it coming and moved out of the way. Not easy to do on a horse. If it had been me, Havoc would have moved, I thought to myself. He was a good enough horse in a pinch.

The fighting continued, and to my sorrow (and slight disgust), I saw Bors hit the ground. He didn't get up again, and I winced. Had he hit his head? I hoped he wasn't hurt…

Then I was distracted when a man on his feet jumped up and latched onto the prince's foot, pulling Arthur to the ground. His horse nervously pulled away and ran for the sides, but I didn't pay attention to that.

While Arthur was down, the man who dragged him stood over him and made ready to stab him with his sword… And even with a blunt one, that could kill the prince!

Arthur rolled out of the way, and I breathed a sigh of relief, brushing my blond hair out of my eyes.

Glancing away again, I saw that two men with a stretcher were carrying some of the knights off the field. Bors was one of them, and so I peeled myself away from the wall to go to my master, cursing in my head because I was missing the action.

The put him gently on the ground by the medical tent, and he grunted, pulling his helmet from his head.

"Are you alright, Bors?" I asked him worriedly.

He nodded, gritting his teeth. "I hurt my leg, I think, when I fell… Don't worry about me," he added as I started to remove the armor from his leg. "What's happening? Who's winning?"

I stood back and craned my neck, wishing I was taller, just managing to catch sight of the fighters over the wall of the field.

"The man who dragged Prince Arthur off his horse is fighting him on the ground… But there's another man riding up behind him; I think he's going for Arthur…"

"Are they the only three left?"

"Yes… ooh! Well, the third man fell off his horse, but he's still getting up again."

Bors tried to sit up and see, but I told him to lie down.

"Hector," he growled good-naturedly. "Have I ever told you that you remind me of a mother hen?"

"Once or twice."

"Well, what's happening?"

"It's two to one… They're teaming up on the prince, probably because he's the best out of the three of them… No, wait! Someone from the ground is getting up and he's helping Arthur!"

Bors sighed, his beard touching his chest as he bowed his head.

"The man who got up has gotten the other man's sword… I think it's Sir Ethan he's fighting… And… Oh. Oh. My." I stared, unbelieving.

"_WHAT_?" yelped Bors, his voice going up a pitch.

"He stabbed Ethan."

"With a blunt sword?"

"Yes. I don't know… And now Arthur's knocked to the ground, and… Bors, the man who took Ethan's sword got in the way and stabbed Arthur's opponent too! Both men… They're bleeding. That can't be a blunt sword!"

There was applause, but I didn't join in.

Bors had pushed himself up on his elbows and his blue eyes were bright with pain and interest. I watched but didn't narrate, ignoring Bors's pleas to be told what was going on, as Arthur faced off the stranger with two swords. But then the prince took off his helmet and stuck his sword into the earth, wiping away sweat as he said something… I was too far to hear it, but I thought it was something about the field.

The other knight lifted his visor, and Arthur put his head back as though he was groaning. He almost seemed to be smiling.

Then the man removed his helmet, showing me the back of a head full of dark hair. Arthur spoke again, louder this time, and I leaned forward to catch it:

"I should have known. No one fights like you do."

Who was it, then? I didn't recognize the man!

King Uther stood up, and I saw that for some reason he was livid.

Pointing to the man with a lot of hair, the king cried, "Guards! Seize him!"

And no one moved or applauded as about half a dozen guards came out of the woodwork and surrounded the stranger (and, by default, the prince). Arthur looked resigned, and the crowd was confused.

Oh, wouldn't I have fun narrating this to Havoc?

Suddenly a sharp pain went up my leg, and I looked down to see that in a way oh-so-knightly, my master had kicked me in the shin.

"Ow!" I complained.

"Well, _what happened_?" he cried, somewhat desperately.

I sighed and shook my head as I began to relate all that had occurred in the past minutes. I began by grousing, "Why can't we ever have a normal tournament or fight? Why do things like this _always_ happen around here, to us?"

I thought the question was fair, but Bors didn't care. He was ready to jump around, antsy, and he would have if his injured leg hadn't stopped him. _"Would you just tell me what happened before I get up and beat some sense into you?"_

"Right, sorry, Sir."


	14. s3e10 Queen of Hearts

**A/N: Whirlwind421, Naisa, and Laughy-Taffy the Grape reviewed last chapter, so thanks to them. I had a really hard time finding an episode of season 3 that I like that had enough extras in it, and then time crept up on me and I ended up going with **_**Queen of Hearts.**_** Which is fine… Except did you know that until about 30 minutes into the episode, the only extras you even see are guards? Made it hard, so this chapter should be short. **

**Next chapter will be the finale. I hope to have it up in a few days. Then (after the what-happened-next) this story will go on hiatus, I suppose, until season 4 ends and I can tell which episodes I want to do. **

I saw a lot of Merlin for a few days. That wasn't particularly strange, of course; Merlin was always around somewhere, doing work for Gaius or the prince. The servants up at the castle could always entertain someone with stories of whatever he'd broken or said that day. If I stopped and spoke to him in the market, he would greet me and ask after my husband, or little Xavier, or even Blair, a mutual friend. Sometimes he was coming out of the forest with herbs. A lot of the time he was sneaking around, looking furtively over his shoulder with his brow furrowed.

Basically, he was a common sight for everyone around Camelot—even if they didn't know who he was, though the people who didn't know of him were few and far between.

I saw him in his way into the little cottage that belonged to Guinevere.

I didn't think anything of it then. After all, they were friends. (Nothing more, though, Blair assured me one day as she stopped to gossip, only rushing on when Victor and her son, sitting on his mother's hip, called for her to move on.) Instead, I turned my attention to Xavier, who was occupying his three-year-self with a mud puddle.

"Xavier, you come here and stop that!" I said, images of hours spent washing the only pair of clothes he owned flashing through my mind.

He simply shrieked in joy and jumped. I groaned to myself, putting my hand to my face. How to go about getting him without getting dirty myself?

I was still sweet-talking and threatening a minute later when Merlin came out of Gwen's house, and if I noticed that he was beaming, I put the thought aside.

"Xavier, your father is hearing about this," I scolded. "And you will be in _big trouble_." It was an empty threat; I wouldn't subject the boy to my husband's temper. But Xavier couldn't know that for sure. I put on my mother-eyes, a little look that I had much practice using and had learned from my own mother, and within seconds I had my little son back, clinging to my skirt.

The next day, I was wrapped up tight, my purple shawl over my head as I made my way to the Court Physician's. _Of course_ Xavier would catch a cold from that mud puddle, I was thinking to myself, worried about the fever that was burning my little boy's forehead and the yellow coming from his mouth as he coughed.

_And I couldn't pay Gaius last time I had to ask for a remedy either. He's going to start denying me medicine if I can't get my man out of the tavern every once in a while. _

Maybe I could ask the barkeep to start denying my man alcohol. He wouldn't be pleased by that.

I was weighing the risks of doing such a thing against the advantages when I passed Merlin going into Gwen's house. He came out a minute later, this time with Gwen, who was dressed up as fine as she could afford in a clean shawl. Usually I would have stopped to raise an eyebrow at this, but I was too preoccupied.

I saw Merlin again as he trailed after Prince Arthur later that day. I was going through the castle to find Blair and ask if I could get Victor to help me fix my broken table—I couldn't afford professional help and my own husband wasn't going to do it. I wondered to myself what made them so upset.

"Haven't you heard yet? No?" When I found her and asked, Blair's eyes sparkled as she flipped her dark braid behind her and kneaded the dough with eagerness. "A bit scandalous, of course… Guinevere, the Lady Morgana's maid, has been banished. She was… caught… with Prince Arthur. Outside of Camelot. _Kissing_ him."

"You've been eavesdropping," I told her, shaking my head. "The poor girl." Gwen sometimes worked a bit as a seamstress, and so professionally it was good for me if she left Camelot, especially since I had gotten more customers since Sorridel ran off last year. But personally, I felt sorry for her. Emotions toyed with by a prince, and then kicked out of Camelot—a sad tale indeed. "Well, I hope the prince is proud where his dalliance got her."

Blair gave me a strange look, and then corrected my bitter words. "Dalliance? Hardly, Mary. Prince Arthur plans on _leaving with her_. He doesn't want to be without her. Isn't that romantic?"

"He'd do better staying with his people, where he belongs. We'll be in trouble if he's not around to lead, won't we?" But inside I felt myself melting a little. Romantic? My tolerance for romance had died out a while ago… But yes, it was romantic, a bit.

Turned out, it wasn't really all that romantic. It was all written off as sorcery, Guinevere was arrested, and Blair lost her taste for gossiping about it when burning at the stake was mentioned.

Poor Guinevere. She wasn't a sorceress. Of course not.

I told my man, so, over dinner, while Xavier sat on the floor and played with a stick he'd found outside.

"Mary, executions are excuses to have a good time," he told me. "After the flames burn down."

My smile was painful. "You mean excuses to get drunk."

He laughed, though I expected him to get angry. He leaned over to kiss my cheek, but I leaned back. Just his breath was making me light-headed.

Gwen was in the dungeons then. The enchanted prince was locked in his room—his face could be seen up against the window as he watched the pyre be built in the courtyard. But then, despite the fact that I'd seen him so much recently, and despite the fact that he was one of Gwen's best friends, I stopped seeing Merlin. That was odd, I noted to myself. And then I forgot it.

And then another sorcerer – an old man – was arrested, freeing Guinevere. At least they would still get some good out of the pyre.

Looking back on it, I should have put it together.

* * *

Xavier wanted to go.

"No," I told him. "You are going to stay home like I told you to, understand? I won't be gone long."

"I want to go! I want to see what's going on!" he yelled at me, crossing his arms and glaring through fierce blue eyes.

_Sometimes he really reminds me of his father,_I thought, feeling angrier than was usual for me.

"No," I said. "Ask again, and I'll tan you myself. Is that understood?"

His arms dropped as his eyes filled and he sniffed, nodding. He really wasn't much like his father after all.

After a moment, I kissed him and apologized for my temper, but didn't change my mind. There was no way Xavier was attending the execution. I wouldn't be going myself, except some morbid curiosity seemed to call to me. I had to go. My man would be there too, of course.

* * *

_Dum Dum Dadadadadadadadada. _

The drum pounded. The king and his ward stood in the balcony, watching. Prince Arthur was leading out the prisoner from the dungeons into the courtyard, into the empty space left by the crowd so they could walk to the pyre.

(Merlin was no where in sight, but I didn't notice at the time.)

_Dum Dum_ _Dadadadadadadadada._

I pulled my purple wrap tighter about my head. The weather was wet and unhappy, and I caught sick easily.

I watched as the old man limped along towards his death with the prince before him and guards on either side. I tried not to feel sorry for him.

_Excuse for getting drunk. _

_Dum Dum_ _Dadadadadadadadada._

_Dum Dum_ _Dadadadadadadadada._

Everyone's face seemed to be pulled down into a serious expression. Most people were quiet. The air was thick with… some emotion, or lack of. Something solemn. Just like an execution should be.

_Dum Dum_ _Dadadadadadadadada._

The drums stopped at the same time the prisoner did, and the king began talking.

"You have been found guilty of using magic and enchantments. In accordance with our laws, you will be burned at the stake."

"_No, Your Majesty,"_ I wanted to say as the horrible, disgusting urge to giggle came over me. I stifled it. _"It's not about the laws. It's an excuse to get drunk."_

Gaius pushed past me without apologizing, his eyes glued on the sorcerer about to be killed as he made his way to the front of the crowd. I didn't let it bother me, though.

"Let this serve as a lesson to all those who seek to destroy Camelot."

I had no plan to destroy Camelot, of course, but the speech irritated me anyway. _An excuse, King Uther. You don't get it. _

Just then the old sorcerer pulled away from his guards and grabbed our Court Physician by the front. The entire crowd gasped and pulled back in alarm

"A CURSE UPON YOU ALL!"

The guards quickly pulled him back, and the prince took Gaius by the arm, asking if he was okay.

"I will have my revenge!" the old sorcerer insisted.

"I'm fine, Arthur," Gaius said, not phased by the sorcerer's attempt to… what? Was that him trying to escape?

Jus then the pyre lit up prematurely, flames leaping with a roar towards the sky. I took a step back, as did everyone else, and the sorcerer took advantage of our confusion to jerk away and run for his life.

He was quick for an old man. He was out of sight before Prince Arthur and his men made their way past me. They never did find him.

I felt strangely triumphant, even though I had done nothing, as I made my way towards my home. My husband would have to find another excuse to have fun, then. I felt like humming, though my man beside me would have bitten my head off if I had tried. He was grouchier than usual.

A sorcerer enchanted a prince and a servant and then escaped. It wasn't very romantic, but then I never cared for romance much anyway. At least no one got killed.

Later that day, I passed Merlin on the streets and I told him hello. I never thought to ask where he had been.

**A/N: What did you think? Review? I think my writing was a bit… simpler than usual, but I don't think she's the smartest small character I've ever written. **

.


	15. s3e13 The Coming of Arthur Part 2

**A/N: Hey, I'm back already! This chapter will be a little different from most… Only one character is new (though he's been mentioned before), and there will be lots of different POVs! And instead of two scenes from the show like usual, there will be only one. Here's sappy-but-gentlemanly Victor, slightly cynical Blair, depressing Ashby, and down to earth Charlotte!**

* * *

**Victor**

Blair didn't like the colors of the new flags; she had told me so as she nervously pushed that little strand of blond hair out of her face. Now, standing before the castle and staring up at the red tree with numerous roots sewn onto a black background, I had to agree. Next to me, Blair clutched our child to herself.

"You should go home," I told her as I watched our "queen" smirk up in her balcony with that witch standing proudly beside her.

"No," she said, her eyes on the line of knights in the courtyard. "I have to be here."

Before I could argue with her, Morgana's voice echoed over the assembled people, forcing us to be quiet.

"I will give you one more chance to pledge your allegiance to me."

The knights stared down the immortal guards with their crossbows ready, but neither group looked away. Neither did Blair.

As the guards lifted their bows and nocked the arrows back, I had the urge to make her look away, but I knew she wouldn't obey me in this. At least the baby's face was buried in her shoulder, though he wouldn't understand the goings-on anyway.

Sir Leon looked up, his light brown hair blowing in the wind, and smiled. "Long live the King!" he cried to Morgana.

The other knights agreed. "LONG LIVE THE KING!"

I felt my fists tighten in anger, and shot another look at my wife. There were tears in her eyes, but she blinked them away and muttered something under her breath.

Morgana just gave a faint sneer. "Perhaps this will help you change your mind!" She held up her hand and then made a chopping motion with it.

Blair saw it. She was looking. But not me; I looked away.

Things happened fast after that. I heard bolts being fired. Blair screamed. I saw her turn away, pulling our son to her chest, and I looked up. I'm not sure if I even knew what was going on, but I was running away, right behind my wife.

I felt something that hurt slap up into my upper back, and my legs decided to stop working. I fell to the ground, distantly hearing someone scream a denial behind me. Or was I imagining it?

I hurt. I was falling. Everything was fading. I still wasn't sure what was going on… I couldn't breathe. Why couldn't I breathe?

Blair! My son!

And then everything went black as my face fell forward onto the cobblestones.

* * *

**Blair**

I went back, of course. The minute I noticed Victor wasn't standing beside me away from the carnage, I went back to look for him. My son began to cry – from the jostling he'd received when I ran or from hunger or sleepiness, I wasn't sure – but I couldn't take care of him just then. I couldn't.

I prayed to heaven, to God, to anything that had more power than I did, that my husband had merely been separated from me. That I wouldn't find him among the dead.

Dead citizens were lying there, injured ones were trying to sit up. People were taking away their loved ones, and guards were moving the rest. The sky was overcast and threatened rain and I was too terrified that I would find Victor among the dead to care.

_No, please, please, let him be looking for me too, scared, just separated…_

There he was. Facedown, but it didn't matter. I could recognize him backwards, forwards, sideways, upside down… And that was him.

I squeezed the baby just a little too tightly, and had to ease my grip when he wailed. Something in my chest ripped right out of me and fluttered down the ground.

"No," I said. "No."

I didn't yell, for fear of scaring the baby.

My husband had an arrow buried up to the shaft in his upper spine, right below his neck. Tears rolled down my cheeks and dripped onto the baby's face. He wiped them away, gurgling a question up at me, and I fell to my knees in front of Victor.

"No," I said again, my voice low and breaking, reaching out with one hand. My fingers brushed against Victor's grimy cheek.

"Victor. No, don't do this. Don't—"

I couldn't talk anymore. The thing in my throat squeezed tightly, and forcing words past it was too painful. I began to sob.

Morgana. It was Morgana's fault. Where was she? Someone should tear her apart for what she did. Morgana's fault.

There was Morgana.

She was walking through the courtyard. How dare she? How dare she walk through people she claimed to be her own, people she killed? Who next? Where was she going next? Her room with her soft bed, to sleep on what she'd done? Down to taunt the king again? She said Uther was a bad king? Uther cared for his people! Arthur cared!

She'd killed my husband!

I launched myself to my feet. "Witch!" I screamed. "You witch!"

She turned and looked at me, her light green eyes lighting with surprise. My baby began to cry.

"You killed them!"

I could speak through the tears again, but they were still coming thick and fast. I saw her eyes narrow in anger, but I didn't care at that moment. I started forward… I saw her mouth open.

I wasn't thinking. That was it. I just wasn't thinking, approaching that woman with my baby. But before anything terrible could happen, I felt a strong, firm hand descend on my arm, and before anyone else could say anything, I was being pulled away at an almost-run.

* * *

**Ashby**

Queen Morgana had fired most of the normal guards, and it felt so wrong to walk around Camelot without my helmet on. It felt so wrong to have to be praying for the prince to still be alive. Wrong for unfamiliar colors to be flying over me. Wrong for the king to be imprisoned in his own dungeons, watching as his people were shot at.

I wasn't in the crowd, but I saw it happen.

I think I stopped breathing. In that moment, I hated everything. Especially politics, power, nobility, royalty… I hated it all so much. If the castle could have been burned to the ground, I would have done it with a smile.

I also saw the grieving people come back for their dead. I saw Morgana walk through. And I saw the young blonde woman clutching a baby protectively to her body try and approach our queen.

Without thinking any further into it, I went towards her. I was almost at a dead run, terrified because that woman held a baby and I could see Morgana's mouth opening to spit some poison.

I grabbed the blonde by the arm and tugged her away, not looking at the queen, not looking at anything but that woman and the child. I had to get them away, but where would I take them?

My place. I would take them to my place, where the woman could cry and pull herself together. And then I would take her home… Or back to collect whoever she was crying over, if she wished. That's what I would do.

Since I was out of a job anyway, it wasn't like I had anything better to do.

* * *

**Charlotte **

I only had one relative in the whole of the stinking city, and she hadn't gone to watch the knights be killed. So I couldn't say I felt the feelings of those crying over their loved ones, but I could remember it. After all, I had lost my father, and if that didn't count as a loved one, I didn't know what did.

And I couldn't say I hated Morgana either, though I think I would rather have liked to. Hating her would have been an interesting feeling, and I couldn't help but think that I was betraying something by not hating her. But I just didn't. Royalty would be royalty; stupid. And this was just a more efficient way of killing people than Uther had, but it worked all the same. He'd killed more than this in his reign. The only difference was he gave better execution speeches about sorcery.

I wandered through the dead, stealing. I'd never stolen off a dead body before. But I'd come to this rotten execution to get something to buy food, and it had been made easy for me. There was a first time for everything, wasn't there?

As I knelt by an older woman, I reached into her pocket and pulled out two coins. No one noticed me.

Then I looked into the woman's still face and my stomach dropped. I recognized her.

"I think I've stolen from you before, mother," I said, tagging the term on at the end and unsure why. She didn't look a thing like my own mother—her face was calm and sweet. I couldn't stop myself from closing this lady's eyes. Respect had never been something I was great at showing, but I thought that this woman deserved it. I took her money and went on.

Actually, I didn't think I'd ever try stealing from the dead again. I didn't like it.

All the same, I took several more coins from a middle-aged man.

"Witch!"

I looked up.

I didn't do a thing as I watched a young woman stand from her place by a man – obviously her husband. She held her baby tightly as she approached her queen.

I didn't do a thing as I watched the queen's eyes seem to go a bit gold, or as I watched her mouth open. I didn't move as a young man that I recognized as one of the old guards latch onto the mother's arm and pull her away to safety.

I didn't say anything or even move as the queen walked on. My eyes fell onto the dead husband. I could remember the tears washing his widow's cheeks clean.

Sighing, I put a hand to my brown-ish, reddish hair that I loved to try and call amber and twirled a bit of it around a finger. And I thought a bit.

It wasn't like I was moved or anything. It was just that I respected the woman's bravery despite her heartbreak. Really. But I won't deny that my heart felt a little heavier than usual.

_Truthfully,_ I decided to myself, _stealing from the dead is quite disgusting._ _And I don't wish to do it anymore. It's not right for someone of my… talents. _

Smiling a bit at that, I gave a nod to the courtyard (I'm not sure why; no one saw it), and then I pocketed my booty. I walked away.

* * *

**A/N: Well, that's that. What did y'all think? It was rather fun to write this from the POV of a lot of my less emotion characters. I will put up the last part either today or tomorrow, and then the hiatus will begin.**


	16. What Happened Next s3

**Amanda:** After her husband's death, his best friend, Ashby, helps get things in order for her. Her and Suzanne eventually move out of Camelot to a small village with Amanda's brother. She dies of an infection of some old wound shortly after her daughter marries.

**Hector and Havoc:** Assuming the show doesn't do something unexpected (like bring about the end of Camelot in the show's running), my plan for Hector is to have him grow up and become a knight, one of those lovable knights that gets to rescue maidens and treats his horse like another friend. Again, unless canon messes with everything, he'll probably die in the battle which brings about the end of Camelot like the loyal warrior he'll be.

**Mary:** When her son, Xavier, is 13, she catches a cold, and dies of pneumonia when he's 14. It doesn't make a huge difference to his alcoholic father's lifestyle, but Xavier is forced to take on responsibility a bit early and learns to take care of things around the house until he moves out. When his father can't take care of himself, he stays with the son, but the man dies relatively young anyway.

Since you didn't meet anyone new in the finale, that's all! I will see you all after season 4 ends, when I get a chance to decide which episodes I want to do. Until then, I guess I'm on hiatus.

_A/N: If anyone's wondering, no, I haven't written a story for Charlotte yet. I want to do about one OC-fic (if any) at a time. I have one for now._


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